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January, 1899, to June, 1899 


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Vol. XVII. 


Xonfcon : 

GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12, SOUTHAMPTON STREET. 



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The Strand Magazine. 

VoL xvii. 

JANUARY, 1899. 

No. 97. 

Round the Fire. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

T was a curious thing, said 
the private tutor ; one of 
those grotesque and whimsi- 
cal incidents which occur 
to one as one goes through 
life. I lost the best situation 
which I am ever likely to have through it. 
But I am glad that I went to Thorpe 
Place, for I gained — well, as I tell you the 
story you will learn what I gained. 

I don't know whether you are familiar with 
that part of the Midlands which is drained 
by the Avon. It is the most English 
part of England. Shakespeare, the flower 
of the whole race, was born right in the 
middle of it. It is a land of rolling pastures, 
rising in higher folds to the westward, until 
they swell into^the Malvern Hills. There 
are no towns, but numerous villages, each 
with its grey Norman church. You have 
left the brick of the southern and eastern 
counties behind you, and everything is stone 
—stone for the walls, and lichened slabs of 
stone for the roofs. It is all grim and 
solid and massive, as befits the heart of a 
great nation. 

It was in the middle of this country, not 
very far from Evesham, that Sir John Bolla- 
more lived in the old ancestral home of 
Thorpe Place, and thither it was that I came 
to teach his two little sons. Sir John was 
a widower — his wife had died three years 
before — and he had been left with these two 
lads aged eight and ten, and one dear little 
girl of seven. Miss Witherton, who is now 
my wife, was governess to this little girl. I 
was tutor to the two boys. Could there be 

a more obvious prelude to an engagement ? 
She governs me now, and I tutor two little 
boys of our own. But, there— I have already 
revealed what it was which I gained in 
Thorpe Place ! 

It was a very, very old house, incredibly 
old — pre-Norman, some of it — and the 
Bollamores claimed to have lived in that 
situation since long before the Conquest. It 
struck a chill to my heart when first I came 
there, those enormously thick grey walls, the 
rude crumbling stones, the smell as from a 
sick animal which exhaled from the rotting 
plaster of the aged building. But the modern 
wing was bright and the garden was well 
kept. No house could be dismal which had 
a pretty girl inside it and such a show of 
roses in front. 

Apart from a very complete staff of servants 
there were only four of us in the household. 
These were Miss Witherton, who was at that 
time four-and-twenty and as pretty — well, as 
pretty as Mrs. Colmore is now — myself, 
Frank Colmore, aged thirty, Mrs. Stevens, 
the housekeeper, a dry, silent woman, and 
Mr. Richards, a tall, military-looking man, 
who acted as steward to the Bollamore 
estates. We four always had our meals 
together, but Sir John had his usually alone 
in the library. Sometimes he joined us at 
dinner, but on the whole we were just as glad 
when he did not. 

For he was a very formidable person. 
Imagine a man six foot three inches in height, 
majestically built, with a high-nosed, aristo- 
cratic face, brindled hair, shaggy eyebrows, a 
small, pointeu Mephistephelian beard, anc} 


Copyright, 1899, by George Newnei, Ljniii,e<}. 



lines upon his brow and round his eyes as 
deep as if they had been carved with a pen- 
knife. He had grey even, weary, hopeless- 
looking eyes, proud and yet pathetic, eyes 
which claimed your pity and yet dared you 
to show it. His back was rounded with 
study, but otherwise he was as fine a look- 
ing man of his age five-ancl-fifty perhaps 
as any woman would wish to look upon, 

But his presence was not a cheerful 
one. He was always 
courteous, always re- 
fined, but singularly 
silent and retiring, 
I have never lived 
so long with any 
man and known so 
little of him. If he 
were indoors he 
spent his time either 
in his own small 
study in the Eastern 
Tower, or in the 
library in the modem 
wing. So regular 
was his routine that 
one could always say 
at any hour exactly 
where he would be. 
Twice in the day he 
would visit his study, 
once after breakfast, 
and once about ten 
at night. You might 
set your watch by 
the slam of the heavy- 
door. For the rest 
of the day he would 
be in his library — 
save that for an hour 
or two in the after- 
noon he would take 
a walk or a ride, 
which was solitary 
like the rest of his 
existence. He loved 
his children, and was 
keenly interested in 

the progress of their studies, but they were 
a little awed by the silent, shaggy- browed 
figure, and they avoided him as much as they 
could, Indeed, we all did that. 

It was some time before I came to know 
anything about the circumstances of Sir John 
Bollamore's life, for Mrs. Stevens, the house- 
keeper, and Mr. Richards, the land-sk:ward, 
were too loyal to talk easily of their employers 
affairs. As to the governess, she knew no 
more than I did, and our common Merest 



was one of the causes which drew us together. 
At last, however, an incident occurred which 
led to a closer acquaintance with Mr. Richards 
and a fuller knowledge of the life of the man 
whom I served. 

The immediate cause of this was no less 
than the falling of Master Percy, the youngest 
of my pupils, into the mill-race, with imminent 
danger both to his life and to mine, since I 
had to risk myself in order to save him. 

Dripping and ex- 
hausted — for I was 
far more spent than 
the child — I was 
making for my room 
when Sir John, who 
had heard the hub- 
bub, opened the door 
of his little study 
and asked me what 
was the matter. I 
told him of the acci- 
dent, but assured 
him that his child 
was in no danger, 
while he listened with 
a rugged, immobile 
face, which ex- 
pressed in its intense 
eyes and tightened 
lips all the emotion 
which he tried to 

" One moment ! 
Step in here ! Let 
me have the details 1 " 
said he, turning hack 
through the open 

And so I found 
myself within that 
little sanctum, inside 
which, as I after- 
wards learned, no 
other foot had for 
three years been set 
save that of the old 
servant who rlr;inrd 
it out- It was a round room, conforming 
to the shape of the tower in which it 
was situated, with a low ceiling, a single 
narrow, ivy-wreathed window, and the simplest 
of furniture. An old carpet, a single chair, 
a deal table, and a small shelf of books made 
ii] i die v.-holc contents. On the table stood 
a full-length photograph of a woman — 1 took 
no piriirular notice of the features, but I 
remember that a certain gracious gentleness 
was the prevailing impression. Reside jt were 



a large black japanned box and one or two 
bundles of letter* or papers fastened together 
with elastic bands. 

Our interview was a short one* for Sir 
John-Bollamore perceived that I wag soaked, 
and that I should change without delay. 
The incident led, however, to an instructive 


talk with Richards, the agent, who had never 
penetrated into the chamber which chance 
had opened to me. That very afternoon he 
came to me, all curiosity, and walked up and 
down the garden path with me, while my two 
charges played tennis upon the lawn beside 

" You hardly realize the exception which 
has been made in your favour," said he, 
" That room has been kept such a mystery, 
and Sir John's visits to it have been so 
regular and consistent tha.t an almost 

superstitious feeling has arisen about it in the 
household I assure you that if I were to 
repeat to you the tales which are flying about, 
tales of mysterious visitors there, and of 
voices overheard by the servants, you 
might suspect that Sir John had relapsed 
into his old ways." 

" Why do you say re- 
lapsed ? ' T I asked. 

He looked at me in sur- 

" Is it possible," said he, 
u that Sir John Rollanwe's 
previous history is unknown 
to vou ? " 

" You astound me, I 
thought that every man in 
England knew something of 
his antecedents. I should 
not mention the matter if it 
were not that you are now 
one of ourselves, and that 
the facts might come to 
your ears in some harsher 
form if I were silent upon 
them, I always took it for 
granted that you knew that 
you. were in the service of 
" Devil J Bollamore." 

"But why 'Devil'?" I 

" Ah, you are young and 
the world moves fast, but 
twenty years ago the name 
of * Devil ' Bollamore was 
one of the best known in 
London. He was the leader 
of the fastest set, bruiser, 
driver, gambler, drunkard - 
a survival of the old type, and 
as bad as the worst of thcm P " 
I stared at him in amaze- 

4i What ! " I cried, " that 

quiet, studious, sad - faced 


" The greatest rip and debauchee in 

England ! AH between ourselves, Col more. 

But you understand now what I mean when 

I say that a woman's voice in his room might 

even now give rise to suspicions." 

" But what can have changed him so ? " 
" Little Beryl Clare, when she took the 
risk of becoming his wife. That was the 
turning point. He had got so far that his 
own fast set had thrown him over. There is 
a world of difference, you know, between a 
man who djirjts m,d a dmnkard, They all 



drink, but they taboo a drunkard. He had 
become a slave to it — hopeless and help- 
less. Then she stepped in, saw ^he 
possibilities of a fine man in the wreck, 
took her chance in marrying him, though 
she might have had the pick of a dozen, 
and, by devoting her life to it, brought him 
back to manhood and decency. You have 
observed that no liquor is ever kept in the 
house. There never has been any since her 
foot crossed its threshold. A drop of it 
would be like blood to a tiger even now." 

" Then her influence still holds him ? " 

"That is the wonder of it. When she 
died three years ago, we all expected and 
feared that he would fall back into his old 
ways. She feared it herself, and the thought 
gave a terror to death, for she was like a 
guardian angel to that man, and lived only 
for the one purpose. By the way, did you 
see a black japanned box in his room ? " 


" I fancy it contains her letters. If ever 
he has occasion to be away, if only for a 
single night, he invariably takes his black 
japanned box with him. Well, well, Colmore, 
perhaps I have told you rather more than I 
should, but I shall expect you to reciprocate 
if anything of interest should come to your 
knowledge." I could see that the worthy 
man was consumed with curiosity and just a 
little piqued that I, the new-comer, should 
have been the first to penetrate into the 
untrodden chamber. But the fact raised me 
in his esteem, and from that time onwards I 
found myself upon more confidential terms 
with him. 

And now the silent and majestic figure of 
my employer became an object of greater 
interest to me. I began to understand that 
strangely human look in his eyes, those deep 
lines upon his careworn face. He was a 
man who was fighting a ceaseless battle, 
holding at arm's length, from morning till 
night, a horrible adversary, who was for ever 
trying to close with him — an adversary which 
would destroy him body and soul could it 
but fix its claws once more upon him. As 
I watched the grim, round-backed figure 
pacing the corridor or walking in the garden, 
this imminent danger seemed to take bodily 
shape, and I could almost fancy that I saw 
this most loathsome and dangerous of all 
the fiends crouching closely in his very 
shadow, like a half-cowed beast which slinks 
beside its keepei, ready at any unguarded 
moment to spring at his throat. And the 
dead woman, the woman who had spent her 
life in warding off thjs ganger, took shape 

also to my imagination, and I saw her as a 
shadow)' but beautiful presence which inter- 
vened for ever with arms uplifted to screen 
the man whom she loved. 

In some subtle way he divined the sym- 
pathy which I had for him, and he showed 
in his own silent fashion that he appreciated 
it. He even invited me once to share his 
afternoon walk, and although no word passed 
between us on this occasion, it was a mark of 
confidence which he had never shown to any- 
one before. He asked me also to index his 
library (it was one of the best private libraries 
in England), and I spent many hours in the 
evening in his presence, if not in his society, 
he reading at his desk and I sitting in a 
recess by the window reducing to order the 
chaos which existed among his books. In 
spite of these closer relations I was never 
again asked to enter the chamber in the 

And then came my revulsion of feeling. 
A single incident changed all my sympathy 
to loathing, and made me realize that my 
employer still remained all that he had ever 
been, with the additional vice of hypocrisy. 
What happened was as follows. 

One evening Miss Witherton had gone 
down to Broadway, the neighbouring village, 
tc sing at a concert for some charity, and I, 
according to my promise, had walked over to 
escort her back. The drive sweeps round 
under the eastern turret, and I observed as I 
passed that the light was lit in the circular 
room. It was a summer evening, and the 
window, which was a little higher than our 
heads, was open. We were, as it happened, 
engrossed in our own conversation at the 
moment, and we had paused upon the lawn 
which skirts the old turret, when suddenly 
something broke in upon our talk and turned 
our thoughts away from our own affairs. 

It was a voice— the voice undoubtedly of 
a woman. It was low — so low that it was 
only in that still night air that we could have 
heard it, but, hushed as it was, there was no 
mistaking its feminine timbre. It spoke 
hurriedly, gaspingly for a few sentences, and 
then was silent a piteous, breathless, im- 
ploring sort of voice. Miss Witherton and I 
stood for an instant staring at each other. 
Then we walked quickly in the direction of 
the hall-door. 

4 ' It came through the window," I said. 

" We must not play the part of eaves- 
droppers," she answered. " We must forget 
that we have ever heard it." 

There was an absence of surprise in her 
manner which suggested a pew jdea to me, * 



"You have heard it before," I cried* 

" I could not help it. My own room is 
higher up on the same turret. It has 
happened frequently." 

" Who can the woman be?" 

w I have no idea. I had rather not dis- 
cuss it." 

Her voice was enough to show- me what 
she thought. But granting that our employer 

"it was the voick UMbouinKbi.v tw A woman 

led a double and dubious life, who could she 
be, this mysterious woman who kept him 
company in the old tower ? I knew from 
my own inspection how* bleak and bare a 
room it was. She certainly did not live 
there* Put in th&t e&s? wh^re did she come 

from ? It could not be any one of the house- 
hold. They were ali under the vigilant eyes 
of Mrs. Stevens. The visitor must come 
from without. But how ? 

And then suddenly I remembered how 
ancient this building was, and how probable 
that some mediaeval passage existed in it. 
There is hardly an old castle without one. 
The mysterious room was the basement of 
the turret, so that if there were anything of 
the sort it would open through the floor. 
There were numerous cottages in the imme- 
diate vicinity, The other end of the secret 
passage might lie among some tangle of 
bramble in the neighbouring copse. I said 
nothing to anyone, but I felt that the secret 
of my employer lay within my power. 

And the more convinced I was of this the 
more 1 nmrvelled at the manner in which 
concealed his true nature, Often as 
I watched his austere 
figure, I asked myself if 
it were indeed possible 
that such a man should 
be living this double life, 
and I tried to persuade 
myself that my suspicions 
might after all prove to 
be ill-founded. But there 
was the female voice, 
there was the secret 
nightly rendezvous in the 
turret chamber — how 
could such facts admit 
of an innocent interpre- 
tation ? I conceived a 
horror of the man. I 
was filled with loathing 
at his deep, consistent 

Only once during all 
those months did I ever 
see him without that sad 
but impassive mask 
which he usually pre- 
sented towards his fellow- 
man. For an instant I 
caught a glimpse of those 
volcanic fires which he 
had damped down so 
long. The occasion was 
an unworthy one, for the 
object of his wrath was 
none other than the aged charwoman whom 
I have already mentioned as being the one 
person who was allowed within his mysterious 
chamber. I was passing the corridor 
which It'll to tlie turret for my own room 

lay in that <4W^tKWBw I h*m<L a 



sudden, startled scream, and merged in 
it the husky, growling note of a man 
who is inarticulate with passion. It was 
the snarl of a furious wild beast. Then 
I heard his voice thrilling with anger "You 
would dare I JT he cried. " You would dare 
to disobey my directions ! " An instant later 
the charwoman passed me, flying down the 
jxissage, white faced and tremulous, while 
the terrible voice thundered behind her. 
" Go to Mrs. Stevens for your money ! 
Never set foot in Thorpe Place again ! n 


Consumed with curiosity, I could not help 
following the woman, and fcund her round 
the corner leaning against the wall and pal- 
pitating like a frightened rabbit. 

MVhat is the matter, Mrs, Brown?" I 


Digitized by LiOOQ Ic 

" It's master ! " she gasped, " Oh J ow y e 
frightened me ! If you 7 ad seen Is eyes, 
Mr. Colmore, sir. I thought 'e would 'ave 
been the death of me." 

" But what had you done ? " 
" Done, sir ! Nothing. At least nothing to 
make so much of. Just laid my T and on that 
black box of 'is *adn T t even ojicned it, when 
in 'e came and you J eard the way 5 e went 
on. I've lost my place, and glad I am 
of it, for I would never trust myself within 
reach of J im again," 

So it was the japanned 
box which was the cause 
of this outburst -the box 
from which he would never 
permit himself to be separ- 
ated. What was the con- 
nection, or was there any 
connection between this and 
the secret visits of the lucly 
whose voice I had over- 
heard ? Sir John Bollamore's 
wrath was enduring as well 
as fiery, for from that day 
Mrs, Brown, the charwoman, 
vanished from our ken, and 
Thorpe Place knew her no 

And now I wish to tell 
you the singular chance 
which solved all these 
strange questions and put 
my employer's secret in my 
possession. The story may 
leave you with some linger- 
ing doubt as to whether 
my curiosity did not get the 
better of my honour, and 
whether I did not conde- 
scend to play the spy. If 
you choose to think so I 
cannot help it, but can only 
assure you that, improbable 
as it may appear, the matter 
came ubout exactly ■ as I 
describe it. 

The first stage in this 
denouement was that the 
small room on the turret 
becam e u ninhab I tab 1 e. Ill i s 
occurred through the fall of 
the worm eaten oaken beam 
which supported the ceiling. Rotten with 
age, it snapped in the middle one morn- 
ing, and brought down a quantity of the 
plaster with it. Fortunately Sir John was 
not in the room at the time. His precious 
box was 'fisaci^d I Abehii amongst the debris 



and brought into the library, whore, hence- 
forward, it was locked within his bureau. Sir 
John took no steps to repair the damage, and 
I never had an opportunity of searching for 
til at secret passage, the existence of which I 
had surmised* As to the lady, I had thought 
that this would have brought her visits to 
an end, had I not one evening heard Mr. 
Richards asking Mrs. Stevens who the woman 
was whom he had overheard talking to Sir 
John in the library* I could not catch her 
reply, but 1 saw from her manner that it 
was not the first time that she had had to 
answer or avoid the same question. 

"You've heard the voice, Colmore?" 
said the agent 

I confessed that I had* 

"And what do you think of it? " 

I shrugged my shoulders, and remarked 
thai it was no business of mine* 

"Come, come, you are just as curious as 
any of us. Is it a woman or not ? " 

"It is certainly a woman." 

"Which room did you hear 
it from?" 

" From the turret-room, before 
the ceiling fell" 

"But I heard it from the 
library only last night. I passed 
the dooras I was going to bed, and 
I heard something wailing and 
praying just as plainly as I hear 
you. It may be a woman- " 

M Why, what else could it be ? " 

He looked at me hard* 

"There are more things in 
heaven and earth," said he, " If 
it is a woman, how does she get 
there ? " 

" I don't know." 

" No, nor L But if it is the 
other thing — but there, for a 
practical business man at the 
end of the nineteenth century 
this is rather a ridiculous line of 
conversation." He turned away, 
but I saw that he felt even more 
than he had said. To all the 
old ghost stories of Thorpe I Mace 
a new one was being added 
before our very eyes. It may 
by this time have taken its per- 
manent place, for though an 
explanation came to me, it never 
reached the others* 

And my explanation came in 
this way. I had suffered a 
sleepless night from neuralgia, 
and about mid-day I had taken 

VoL xviL— 2 

a heavy dose of chlorodyne to alleviate the 
pain. At that time I was finishing the index- 
ing of Sir John Bollamore's library, and it 
was my custom to work there from five till 
seven* On this particular day I struggled 
against the double effect of my bad night and 
the narcotic. I have already mentioned 
that there was a recess in the library, and 
in this it w r as my habit to work* I settled 
down steadily to my task, but my weariness 
overcame me and, falling back upon the 
settee, I dropped into a heavy sleep. 

How long I slept I do not know, but it 
w f as quite dark when I awoke. Confused 
by the chlorodyne which I had taken, I lay 
motionless in a semi-conscious state* The 
great room with its high walls covered with 
books loomed darkly all round me, A dim 
radiance from the moonlight came through 
the farther window, and against this lighter 
background I saw that Sir John Bollamore 
was sitting at his study table. His well-set 







head and clearly cut profile were sharply out- 
lined against the glimmering square behind 
him. He bent as I watched him, and I 
heard the sharp turning of a key and the 
rasping of metal upon metal. As if in a 
dream I was vaguely conscious that this was 
the japanned box which stood in front 
of him, and that he had drawn some- 
thing out of it, something squat and 
uncouth, which now lay before him upon 
the table. I never realized — it never 
occurred to my bemuddled and torpid brain 
that I was intruding upon his privacy, that he 
imagined himself to be alone in the room. 
And then, just as it rushed upon my horrified 
perceptions, and I had half risen to announce 
my presence, I heard a strange, crisp, metallic 
clicking, and then the voice. 

Yes, it was a woman's voice ; there could 
not be a doubt of it. But a voice so charged 
with entreaty and with yearning love, that it 
will ring for ever in my ears. It came with a 
curious far-away tinkle, but every word was 
clear, though faint — very faint, for they were 
the last words of a dying woman. 

" I am not really gone, John," said the thin, 
gasping voice. " I am here at your very 
elbow, and shall be until we meet once more. 
I die happy to think that morning and night 
you will hear my voice. Oh, John, be strong, 
be strong, until we meet again." 

I say that I had risen in order to announce 
my presence, but I could not do so while the 
voice was sounding. I could only remain 
half lying, half sitting, paralyzed, astounded, 
listening to those yearning distant musical 
words. And he — he was so absorbed that 
even if I had spoken he might not have heard 
me. But with the, silence of the voice came 
my half articulated apologies and explanations. 
He sprang across the room, switched on the 
electric light, and in its white glare I saw 
him, his eyes gleaming with anger, his face 
twisted with passion, as the hapless char- 
woman may have seen him weeks before. 

" Mr. Colmore ! " he cried. " You here ! 
What is the meaning of this, sir ? " 

With halting words I explained it all, my 
neuralgia, the narcotic, my luckless sleep and 
singular awakening. As he listened the glow 
of anger faded from his face, and the sad, im- 
passive mask closed once more over his 

" My secret is yours, Mr. Colmore," said 
he. " I have only myself to blame for relax- 
ing my precautions. Half confidences arc 
worse than no confidences, and so you may 
know all since you know so much. The 
story may go where you will when I have 

Digitized by GoOglC 

passed away, but until then I rely upon your 
sense of honour that no human soul shall 
hear it from your lips. I am proud still — 
God help me ! — or, at least, I am proud 
enough to resent that pity which this story 
would draw upon me. I have smiled at 
envy, and disregarded hatred, but pity is 
more than I can tolerate. 

" You have heard the source from which the 
voice comes — that voice which has, as I 
understand, excited so much curiosity in my 
household. I am aware of the rumours to 
which it has given rise. These speculations, 
whether scandalous or superstitious, are such 
as I can disregard and forgive. What I 
should never forgive would be a disloyal 
spying and eavesdropping in order to satisfy 
an illicit curiosity. But of that, Mr. Colmore, 
I acquit you. 

" When I was a young man, sir, many years 
younger than you are now, I was launched 
upon town without a friend or adviser, 
and with a purse which brought only too 
many false friends and false advisers to my 
side. I drank deeply of the wine of life — if 
there is a man living who has drunk more 
deeply he is not a man whom I envy. My 
purse suffered, my character suffered, my 
constitution suffered, stimulants became a 
necessity to me, I was a creature from whom 
my memory recoils. And it was at that time, 
the time of my blackest degradation, that 
God sent into my life the gentlest, sweetest 
spirit that ever descended as a ministering 
angel from above. She loved me, broken as 
I was, loved me, and spent her life in making 
a man once more of that which had degraded 
itself to the level of the beasts. 

" But a fell disease struck her, and she 
withered away before my eyes. In the hour 
of her agony it was never of herself, of her 
own sufferings and her own death, that she 
thought. It was all of me. The one pang 
which her fate brought to her was the fear 
that when her influence was removed I should 
revert to that which I had been. It was in 
vain that I made oath to her that no drop of 
wine would ever cross my lips. She knew 
only too well the hold that the devil had 
upon me— she who had striven so to loosen 
it — and it haunted her night and day the 
thought that my soul might again be within 
his grip. 

"It was from some friend's gossip of the 
sick room that she heard of this invention — 
this phonograph — and with the quick insight 
of a loving woman she saw how she might 
use it for her ends. She sent me to London 
to procure the best which money could buy. 

u I I I ■_» I I I 




When I returned she lay actually in the 
throes of death. And with her last breath 
-the very last that she breathed upon 
earth — she whispered this message into it, 
a message to strengthen my resolves and to 
retain her influence upon my actions. Into 
her ear I whispered that twice a day for ever 
afterwards I should listen to her dear voice, 
and so, smiling at the success of her plan, 
she passed gently away. 

" So now you have my secret > Mr. Col more, 
and you understand why this japanned box 
and that which it contains is more to me 
than all my ancestral home, I trust you, 
and I believe you to be worthy of my trust. 

But after this the sight of you would be 
painful to me, and so good-bye I You will 
find no cause to regret having left my service, 
but you will understand that we must never 
meet again. 3 ' 

So this was the last time that I was ever 
destined to see Sir John Bollamore, and I 
left him standing in his library, with his 
hand upon the instrument which brought 
him that ever-recurring, intangible, and yet 
intimate reminder from the woman whom 
he loved. You may have read about his 
death in a carriage accident last Midsummer. 
I do not fancy that it was a very unwelcome 
event to him. 

by Google 

Original from 

Illustrated Interviews. 

LXIL— MADAME MELBA. By Percy Cross Standing. 


Fhota -\vl HRlJsSKLs, oCTaiiKK 15, 1SB7, [J. ^u, Crural*. 

O an observant student of the 
world's genius it is a reflection, 
not without a peculiar interest 
of its own, that the Australian 
Continent has so far produced 
but one woman-singer of the 
first rank. Of poets whose genius is as un- 
doubted as their place in the world's literature 
is certain Australia has given us at least two, 
in Henry Kendall and the gifted but ill-fated 
Adam Lindsay Gordon. To the drama this, 
the ** least contiguous " of the four continents, 
has contributed Haddon Chambers — though 
the creator of "Captain Swift" and "The 
Idler" has now dwelt among us so long 
as to be regarded as a fully naturalized 
"Engiander." The department of imagin- 

ative literature is already represented by 
quite a little army from "clown under," as 
the eminent names of Mrs. Campbell Praed, 
"Tasma," Mr. Rolf Boldrewood, Miss Ada 
Cambridge, Miss Ethel Turner, Mr, Guy 
Booth by, and the late Marcus Clarke bear 
eloquent testimony; whilst the field of critical 
and biographical writing finds a worthy repre- 
sentative in Mr Patchett Martin. 

Hut Melba stands alone. Towering head 
and shoulders over every other aspirant to 
the highest honours of grand opera, the 
retirement of Madame Patti from the operatic 
field has left "the Australian Nightingale" 
undisputed ruler of an empire probably the 
proudest in the sum of this planet's most 

deslra l^l?fl^fTO $6\$m are honuuia 



becomingly and graciously worn by one who, 
scarcely a decade ago, was little more than a 
name to the patrons and supporters of the 

As I sit in her salon to-day, and chat with 
this queenly woman, whose greatest charm 
assuredly lies in her consideration for others, 
I wonder whether she ever recalls that little 
white-robed girl (herself) who, in far-off Mel- 
bourne, in the dead of night, startled her 
parents and brought them downstairs by her 
playing of Beethoven's " Moonlight Sonata." 
It is a pretty story, with a prettier sequel 
For the parents of that little girl had not 
the heart to chide 
their offspring for 
her "precocity " 
(that unmeaning 
word in which the 
beginnings of 
genius are so often 
concealed), but 
rather did they 
coax her back to 
bed as they mar- 
velled over what 
they had heard. 
Surely they must, 
even at that early 
day, have had 
same faint glim- 
mering of the 
future in store for 
the coming prima 
donna ■■ 

14 Perhaps they 
did — I do not 
know," says 
Madame Melba, 
dreamily. w But 
one thing I know 
for certain — that 
their daughter did 
not cherish any 
such aspirations 
for a long time to 
come- I went 
quietly on with my education — no, not 
my musical education, that came later 
—until my marriage, which took place at 
the early age of seventeen. Stop, though ! 
I was entirely forgetting to tell you the 
story of what I call 'my first appear- 
ance on any stage, 1 It took place at 
the Town Hall, Richmond, which is a 
suburb of Melbourne, and I was aged six at 
the time ! What did I sing ? Let me see, 
now ! Yes, I sang ' Shells of the Ocean ' 
first* followed by * ComhV thro* the Rye/ It 

was a great occasion, as you may imagine, 
and I am by no means certain that I am not 
prouder of it than of anything 1 have done 

On the question as to whence — if traceable 
at all Madame Melba derives her voice and 
natural musical gifts, she told me that her 
mother was an accomplished musician. In 
addition to being a beautiful pianist, she 
played also the organ and the harp, Thus 
it was that the future prima donna was reared 
so to speak in the lap of Music. Her mother 
was her first teacher of the piano, and after- 
wards her studies were aided by the exertions 

of her aunts Alice 

; w4. 


»r c 



t~r*mir a / k Ao*a by CAuArt, Pari*. 

and Lizzie. 

"Even as a 
child of three or 
four," she con- 
tinued, " I was so 
passionately de- 
voted to music 
that I remember 
frequently crawling 
under the piano 
and remaining 
quiet there for 
hours while listen- 
ing to my mother's 
playing. Yes, my 
mother sang also, 
though she had 
not a particularly 
notable voice. But 
her sister, 
* Aunt Lizzie, 
I called her, 
sessed a soprano 
voice of extra- 
ordinary beauty 
and quality. To 
this day I can 
remember my 
aunt's absolute 
control of her 
voice, and the 
beauty and ease 
even in the highest 
Indeed, I feel sure 
would have enjoyed a 
public singer, had she 




of her execution 
pia n is si mo passages 
my Aunt Lizzie 
brilliant career as a 
adopted it" 

It should be mentioned that the diva's 
father, Mr. David Mitchell, is a squatter 
resident in the Colony of Victoria, and that 
his several stations are far removed from 
important townships. The family now reside 
at Colbin AbbinaDftaltft ; but in the days 



Flat/ 7 another of her father's estates, where 
she was born and brought up, with intermit- 
tent visits to Melbourne. 

I was interested to find that the subject of 
this interview can also trace the gift of music 
on the paternal side of the house. To this 
day her father sings in the local choir, and 
his daughter told me she well remembered 
his voice as a deep basso of beautiful 
timbre. He has always been passionately 
fond of music, and is. in addition to his 
vocal talent (to quote his daughter's own 
expression), "a fiddler of no mean ability." 
Madame Melba speaks in the most affection- 
ate terms of both her parents. Her mother 
died while the great singer was in her teens, 
but Melba cherishes many sweet recollections 
of her. 

"She was a natural artist— not as regards 
music only, for one remembers it in the 
general expression of her life. She was, 
among other things, a charming painter on 
china, and the dessert-service still in use 
at home was decorated by her brush. 

" Did my father also foster my love of 
music ? Yes, indeed he did, to the utmost 
of his power. When I was quite a baby it 
was my great joy, on Sunday afternoons, to 
sit on my father's knee at the harmonium. 
He would blow the bellows with his feet, 
while singing a bass accompaniment to the 
hymn which I would pick out on the key- 
board with one finger." 

Thus, finding that the Australian singer 
inherits the gift of song from either side of 
her family, I inquired whether this passion 
for music did not begin to take shape at a 
very tender age. 

" In illustration that that was so," she 
answered, " I remember once our family 
moving into ' winter quarters ' at one of my 
father's outlying stations. I was ten years 
old at the time, but I know I felt 
furious, on arrival, to find that there was 
no piano in the house. My gentle mother 
consoled me with the gift of a concertina, 
which I taught myself to play during 
the three months that we remained there ! 
In those sequestered places, in the case 
ot country houses very far removed from 
a church or chapel, it is customary for a 
clergyman or lay preacher to come along 
on Sundays and preach to the family, the 
servants, and station hands — often quite a 
large congregation, particularly at shearing- 

" One Sunday — I was then, perhaps, 
thirteen years old — we were visited by a 
worthy man, who chanced to be a par- 

ticularly poor preacher. At the conclu- 
sion of his very long and (as we children 
thought) somewhat wearisome discourse, he 
suggested that we should sing a hymn. 
There was a harmonium in the room, and 
my mother asked me to play a familiar hymn. 
I accordingly seated myself, but, in revenge 
for having been so bored, I played — to the 
horror of some and the secret delight of 
others — a music-hall ditty which had suc- 
ceeded in penetrating our wilderness ! It 
was called, ' You Should See Me Dance the 
Polka.' In the sequel, I received the well- 
merited punishment of being sent to bed for 
the remainder of the day. 

" It must have been about the end of the 
same year that I had, what I thought at the 
time, a very fearsome adventure indeed ! It 
happened at Melbourne. I was learning to 
play the organ, and I had permission occa- 
sionally to practise on the great organ in the 
Scots Church. Late one afternoon I ceased 
playing, and fell into a reverie. When, at 
last, I proceeded to leave the church, I 
found, to my horror, I was locked in ! 
My playing having ceased for some time, the 
sexton had concluded I was gone, and had 
locked up the church and left. You cannot 
conceive the agony of mind I endured. The 
church was very dark, and the pulpit and 
altar in their grey dust-cloths looked, to 
my frightened imagination, like monstrous 
ghosts. What should I do? .... At last 
the sexton returned — by the merest chance 
he had forgotten something, which he came 
back to fetch, and so I obtained my release." 

About two years after her marriage, 
namely, at the age of nineteen, Melba began 
concert singing. At first she sang as an 
amateur; but so rapidly did she betray 
talents of an extraordinarily high order, that 
she was strongly recommended to adopt the 
vocal art as a profession. Upon this advice 
she acted, and came to England to study. 
The rest is history. 

It is, however, history of an exceedingly 
interesting character. It will be seen that, 
in shaping her public career, Madame Melba 
unconsciously moved in cycles of two years. 
Thus, she was married at seventeen. At 
nineteen she commenced to sing publicly. 
At twenty-one she came to Europe in order 
to study the art she had elected to follow. 
At twenty-three occurred her debut on the 
operatic stage. 

So far as operatic England is concerned, 
the distinction of introducing Melba to the 
Covent Garden public belongs to the late 
Sir Augustus Harris, who subsequently wrote 




a rather remarkable 
letter on the subject 
of the Australian 
debutantes quickly 
won popularity. 
Madame Melba's 
initial appearance 
on the Covent 
(iarden stage took 
place in Ma>\ 1888, 
as the ill-fated 
heroine of Doni- 
zetti's " Lucia di 
Lammermoor." Her 
success, both with 
the critics and with 
the public, was so 
spontaneous and 
overwhelming* that 
her engagement for 
the next (1889) 
London season was 
rendered inevitable. 
The new prima 
donnas principal 
appearance of 1889 
was in Gounod's 
"Rom^oet Juliette," 
while her perform- 
ance in Verdi's 
"Rigoletto" ex- 
hibited how rapidly, 
to quote Mr, Parker's 
11 Opera Under 
Augustus Harris/ 1 
14 Madame Melba's 

Madame aiKLiiA In "lakm^," 1890, 

was in- 
in this 
country." In 1890 she created at Covent Garden 
the character of Ophelia in Dr. AmbroLse 
Thomas's " Hamlet/' which she had the advant- 
age of rehearsing with the composer himself. 

In. 1893 Melba went to America, to meet 
with a wholly unprecedented success ; but in 
*94 she was back at Covent (iarden, to charm 
huge audiences with her Ntdda in Leon- 
cavallo's " Pagliacci,'' and her Marguerite in 
" Faust." Since then the cantatrice has 
appeared with regularity during the London 
opera season. Two of her most interesting 
appearances have been in " Carmen " three 
years ago, when that opera was performed 
with the extraordinarily strong cast of Madame 
Calve as Carmen^ Madame Melba as Michatla^ 
and ML Alvarez as Don Josi- ; and in Li Les 
Huguenots" in 1896, when Albani was the 
Valentina and Melba the Marglterita de I 'a lets. 
In that season, by the way, a gloom was cast 
Over English musical life by the deaths of 

Sir Joseph Barn by 
and Sir Augustus 
Harris, the latter 
being a personal 
friend of Madame 
Melba, and of whom 
she cherishes many 
pleasant recollections. 
But then, as I told 
the Australian prima 
derma, in her case 
"pleasant recollec- 
tions H must of neces- 
sity multiply them- 
selves j by virtue of 
the numbers of the 
world's great ones 
with whom her art 
and her remarkable 
gifts have brought 
her in contact And 
yet she remains so 
wholly and entirely a 
"womanly woman," 
that I verily believe 
she values the esteem 
and admiration of the 
lowliest peasant as 
highly as that of the 
great ones of the earth. 



- F JWU a Phot*, h JKMtar, Pari*. 




In respect of the personal friendships to 
which I have just made reference, the diva 
has delightful remembrances of masters like 
the veteran Verdi, Charles Gounod (with 
whom she had the privilege of rehearsing 
his " Faust " and " Rom£o et Juliette "), poor 
Goring Tho nas, the creator of " Esmeralda," 
Tosti, and Puccini. In the case of the 
latter composer, she studied her part in his 
" La BoWme " (a new assumption) with him 
in Southern Italy last summer ; and, if all 
that we hear be true, she is destined to win 
fresh laurels in the same composers newest 
work, " La Tosca," in which Puccini does for 
Sardou's tragic story what Verdi has done 
for Shakespeare's "Othello." 

Nellie Melba is a woman of rare enthu- 
siasms. In conversation with me, she could 
not say too much in praise of Madame 
Matilde Marchesi the only singing-teacher 
she has ever had —and whom she speaks of 
in terms of warmest affection and sympathy. 

I asked the prima donna whether she has 
ever experienced the excitement and danger 
of a theatre fire. " Yes, on two occasions," 
she told me ; " in San Francisco and in 
London- In both cases the danger was 
happily averted. At Covent Garden the 
outbreak happened actually on the stage 
during a performance of 'Faust,' and the 
curtain hid to be rung down. I chanced 
to be in the ' wings ' at the time, and while 
they were battling with the flames behind 
the curtain, I came in front and begged 
the people to remain seated. Fortunately 
that most terrible of calamities, a theatre 
panic, was averted. As soon as I found 
myself behind the scences once more I com- 
mitted the weakness of fainting." 

There have been, not unnaturally, some 
striking incidents connected with Melba's 
enormous popularity at the Paris Opera 
House. There is one of them, however, to 
which a pathetic interest attaches by reason 
of the comparatively recent death of Madame 
Camot, who figured in it in very sympathetic 
fashion. The opera was " Lucia di I^ammer- 
moor " — one of Melba's greatest, if not her 
very greatest assumption. It happened 
that the tenor, Monsieur Cossira, arrived 
at the Opera House feeling very unwell, but 
apparently recovering before the opera began 
he decided to go on. Early in the first act, 
however, he almost completely lo>t his voice ! 
When it came to the duet with Lucia in the 
first act, it utterly failed him. The prima 
donna, full of sympathy for his difficulty, for a 
time sang his music as wdl as her own ; but 
ultimately the curtain had to be rung down, 

and for a few moments it appeared as though 
the performance could not proceed, since - 
surely a thing unprecedented at the Paris 
Opera House -Monsieur Cossira was not 
provided with an understudy ! As luck 
would have it, though, among the audience 
was M. Engel, who had sung the part with 
Melba, not long before, in Brussels. Grasp- 
ing the situation, he went behind the scenes 
and proffered his services, which were gladly 
and gratefully accepted. The performance 
proceeded, and for several nights thereafter 
M. Engel sang the part. 

" At the close of the evening," added 
Madame Melba, in telling me of the incident, 
" Madame Camot sent for me. It was during 
Monsieur Carnot's reign at the Elys^e, and 
so his wife was occupying the Presidential box 
at the Opera. Being a woman of very quick 
perception, Madame Carnot had observed my 
efforts at covering the confusion of my poor 
colleague. I can never forget her kind words 
to me then, nor shall I readily forget the 
sorrow I felt afterwards on hearing the news 
of President Carnot's terrible end, and of 
her own death subsequently." 

By the time this interview appears in print, 
Madame Melba will be in the thick of her 
fifth visit to the United States. Her previous 
operatic tours of the American Continent 
have been full of varied and interesting 
experiences. One of the most characteristic 
" Melba stories " that I know dates from her 
last tour but one. It was at St Louis, where, 
thanks to a late train, the diva and her 
company arrived only a very little time before 
the hour fixed for the commencement. There 
was, in fact, only just time for the artists to 
make for their respective dressing-rooms. 
But Melba, looking down from a coign of 
vantage into the orchestra, observed, to her 
dismay and annoyance, that her musicians 
were in morning dress. She promptly sent 
for the chef cTorchcstrc. The poor man 
expostulated, remonstrated ; they had but a 
few minutes before come off the cars ; there 
was no time, etc. But Melba was firm. " If 
the gentlemen of my orchestra do not choose 
to appear in evening dress, I shall refuse to 
go on the stage. I owe a duty to the public 
as well as to myself." 

This inexorable mandate had its effect, 
and the musicians were soon seen filing out 
of the orchestra, to return a few minutes 
later, suitably clad in the evening garb of 
comparative civilization. Then the curtain 
rose and the opera commenced only a very 
little behind time The incident did not, 

howt Mv!felTra^-AN The "^ of 



the Press hat] seen the musicians disappear Knise, the solo violinist— all were not only 
and re-appear, and correctly surmising the Australians, but Victorians by birth, 
cause of their " quick change, 55 the result Immediately after her few but brilliant 

was a series of graceful little 
articles in the St. Louis papers 
complimenting the popular fav- 
ourite upon her sense of the 
fitness of things, 

An incident without precedent 
on the concert stage marked the 
great concert which Melba gave 

F rum a Photo, by RMntlingtr, Parti, 

at the Albert Hall, on November 2nd, 
to signalize her departure for her present 
trans -Atlantic tour. Of the three principal 
performers— /.£, Madame Melba herself, Miss 
Ada Crossley, the contralto, and Mr. Johann 


Frvm a Phvta. by ifcii^'ic ti Cu\ Pari*. 

appearances at Covent Garden last season, 
Madame Melba rented a charmingly-situated 
house, called OfifliwfcftG llftear the river at 




From a Photo. b r H. M, ilfaiJtnA™^ 

Maidenhead, Here she entertained many 
friends during the month of August, A 
very interesting "group" photograph of 
three distinguished Australians Melba, Mr, 
Haddon Chambers, and Mr, Bertram 
MacKennal— taken at that time on the lawn 
at Kern ley, is shown at the top of this page. 
It will be interesting to your readers that 
the last-named distinguished compatriot of 
Madame Melba's is executing a bust of the 
diva % which she has decided to present to 
the Public Library of Melbourne* A bust of 
the Melbourne Melba, by the Melbourne 
MacKennal, is obviously an artistic event of 
peculiar interest. 

By the way, the popular morning u daily " 
that unwittingly represented Melba as an 

athletic kind of lady, skilled in the gentle art 
of rowing, was sadly in error ! Far and 
away the most interesting episode of the stay 
at Fernley was a visit which the prima donna 
and some members of her house-party paid 
to the grave of the poet Gray in Stoke Poges 
churchyard- Here, it will be remembered, 
Gray wrote his beautiful " Elegy " \ and here, 
too, Melba (who, I omitted to say, is an 
accomplished organist, and often used to 
play that instrument in the Scots Church at 
Melbourne) expressed a desire to try the 
organ in the charming old church of Stoke 

Thereby hangs this tale : The rector, on 
it being represented to him that u Madame 
Melba would likpj a |cp r g^y the organ," court- 




eously handed over the necessary keys, and 
Melba gave great pleasure to her audience 
of half-a-dozen friends by playing and singing 
for them a selection of pieces, which in- 
cluded the Gounod " Ave Maria," and ended 
with the National Anthem. Asked by one 
of the party how she had enjoyed the 
impromptu sacred concert, the old lady 
who was in charge of the church, and whose 
services had been requisitioned to blow the 
organ, enthusiastically rejoined, "Oh, it 
were all beautiful, m'm, but ' God Save the 
Queen ' were best of all ! " 

Madame Melba is fortunate in having 
some one member of her family — a brother 
or sister, generally speaking — to accompany 
her on her travels. . During her last American 
tour she had for companions both a sister 
and a brother —Miss Dora and Mr. Ernest 
Mitchell — and she still speaks of the regret 
with which she parted from them when they 
were obliged to return to their Antipodean 
home about the end of the last London season. 
She says she is not less fortunate in having a 
man like Mr. Charles A. Ellis (originally 
the business manager of the Boston Sym- 
phony Orchestra) to personally conduct her 
trans-Atlantic tours. The present one will be 
very much extended, and will involve the 
traversing of many thousands of miles by 
the diva and her company. The principal 
members of that company are Ternina, Z£lie 
de Lussan, and Gadski, Alvarez, Bonnard, 
Pandolfini, Kraus, and Bonderesque, and the 
orchestra is controlled by Signor Seppilli and 
Mr. Walter Damrosch. As for Melba's reper- 
toire, it comprises not only two roles quite new 
to her— "Martha" and "La BoWme"- but 
also "Lucia," "Hamlet," " Manon," "Les 
Huguenots," " La Traviata," " Rigoletto," 
" Faust," " Rom&> et Juliette," and " II Bar- 
bifere di Siviglia" — in the last-named of which 
she scored such a shining success at Covent 
Garden last season. While on the subject of 
America, I may mention that Madame Melba 
seriously meditates refusing an offer for a 
season in South America, which I take to be 
the most dazzling and tempting ever made 
tQ a prima donna. She whimsically says 
that she thinks she would rather spend the 
greater part of 1899 in Europe, although 
she looks forward with pleasure to a visit 
to South America later on. 

I am reminded of one more " Melba 
anecdote." Two or three years ago she 
took a party of friends to see the interior 
of La Scala, the noble opera-house where 
many of her triumphs have been won. 
Throwing open the door of a dressing- 

room, their cicerone exclaimed, "This is 
where the celebrated Melba used to dress ! " 
The great singer's friends began to laugh, 
but she, looking hard at the man, quietly 
asked him, " What ! don't you know me ? " 
And then this son of Italy perceived that, 
sans voice and sans diamonds though she 
might be, she still was " Melba." 

It is, I think, illustrative of Madame 
Melba's large humanity that the simpler and 
more sympathetic the anecdote, the better is 
she pleased to tell it. For example, "one 
touch of nature " is to her much more than 
to tell of her many meetings with Royalty — 
of her brilliant career as queen of opera — of 
her impressions of the many great ones of 
the world into whose society she has been 
thrown. Of her debut in opera she readily 
speaks, for must it not always rank as one of 
her pleasantest memories? It occurred at 
the Brussels Opera House, and at the age of 
twenty-two. Not at that time knowing French, 
Melba was permitted to sing in Italian, while 
the other artists sang French — an unpre- 
cedented concession to a debutante on the 
part of the local opera authorities. On that 
memorable evening, the next box to the one 
occupied by some friends and relatives 
of Madame Melba contained a lady and 
gentleman. At the close of the first act, 
the Jatter asked his companion as to her 
opinion of the debutante, when the lady 
was heard to reply, " Debutante ! Non- 
sense ! I heard her in Madrid ten years 
ago. She was an awful failure, and she's 
forty if she's a day ! " 

" Did you feel any resentment when you 
heard the story ? " I asked. 

" Not in the least," replied Madame Melba, 
laughing merrily, " albeit in those early days 
I had not grown accustomed, as, alas ! I 
have since, to hearing strangely false reports 
about myself — reports sometimes amazing, 
sometimes absurd, and sometimes, I fear, 
malicious. Besides, I was in far too good a 
humour with the public success I had 
achieved to feel angry ; and if the story 
appears in your article, and the lady sees it, 
I shall feel amply avenged." 

Two incidents in connection with her first 
American tour were related to me so feel- 
ingly by the prima donna, that I must do my 
best to reproduce them. The first occurred 
in New York. Melba had been practising 
her part at her hotel one afternoon. Just 
as she had finished, and was coming out 
of her rooms, she encountered a strange 
lady, whose rooms opened into the same 
corridor. '--THS 1 unknown approached her, 




and said, " Madame, I think you would be 
touched to hear what my little boy said just 
now. He is lying in bed getting over an 
illness ; and when you began to sing he 
lifted his tiny forefinger and whispered, 
' Hist, mummy I Birdie ! ' v 

The second incident referred to occurred 
one snowy night as the diva was leaving the 
stage-door of the Opera House at Phila- 
delphia. An old lady, very neatly attired, 
but evidently not in affluent circumstances, 
was waiting for her as she crossed the foot- 
way to her carriage, When Madame Melba 

says she will never forget, " God bless your 
beautiful heart, my dear ! " 

My interesting visit to Madame Melba 
terminated with, on my part, a very natural 
regret. I carried away with me an indelible im- 
pression — the impression of a queenly woman, 
an incomparable artist, bearing her unrivalled 
gifts and her regal position in the world of 
music with a simplicity and a womanly 
modesty which, while unable to enhance their 
value, add a singular grace and charm to 
their possession* And I found it a pleasing 
reflection that I had been accorded an 

From a Photo, by R>iKttin\jrr, Pari*. 

appeared the old lady remarked, kk Madame, 
I have just heard you sing, and I've waited 
here in the hope that you will let me take 
your hand/' Melba, deeply touched, im- 
pulsively kissed the old lady on either 
cheek. This salutation won from its 

recipient these simple words, which Melba 

audience of a queen who is delightfully 
unconscious of her sovereignty, and who, 
even if robbed of the gifts which now enchant 
the world, would still retain those qualities 
which enchant her friends — her bright intelli- 
gence, her ever-ready sympathies, and her 
true womanliness. 

by Google 

Original from 

NOTHER present, Honor? 
I thought you had really 
received the last." 

<; So did I/' replied Honor, 
sitting up in her low chair, 
and beginning to untie the 
string that was round the small parcel. 
■ People are very kind; wonderfully 

Mrs, I^atimer looked up quickly at the 
sound of the dejected voice. She was a 
slight, sweet - looking woman, in widow's 
dress, whose face, despite its never -varying 
sadness, bore traces of great beauty. The 
present proved to be a very beautiful pendant 
of emeralds and diamonds* Mrs- Latimer, 
having admired it as it lay on its satin bed, 
handed it back to her daughter, 

"So kind of your Uncle James," she said, 
is she did so, watching meantime, with 
puzzled uneasiness, Honor's listless finger- 
ing of the jewel-ease, 

" Very kind ! " remarked the girl, tilting 
her chin somewhat superciliously, " Am I 
not marrying a rich man ? If Ronald had 
been poor, how would Uncle James have 
treated me ? " 

* Honor, Honor/ 1 said her mother, a (mined 
look crossing her face, "how very unlike you 
to be so bitter." 

Honor crossed over to where her mother 

sat and dropped down on the rug beside her, 

and taking one of her mothers hands pressed 

it to her cheek, 

[i He thinks it really, little mother, only you 

are too good to see it, and know too that I 
love Ronald so dearly that I'd marry him if 
he hadn't a second coat to put on. Uncle 
James, of all people ! " — she threw the case 
into the chair she had just vacated, her blue 
eyes shining and hard "Uncle James, who 
might have done so much, who might have 
saved his nephew from destruction by holding 
out a helping hand, Poor Jim ! " 

Her clear voice broke for a moment, then 
she pointed to a table in the comer that was 
covered with wedding presents, 

" I'd give them all for one little note from 
Jim saying l}e was sorry and was coming to 
us. Just imagine if he came home and sat 
with us here in this very room ! I cannot 
get him out of my thoughts to-night. Per- 
haps, somewhere 1 , he is thinking of us." 

Mrs. Latimer sank back in her chair, the 
tears coursing down her face. 

" I pray night and morning that he may 
come back to us, and it seems as though 
God turned a deaf ear to all my pleadings* 
I dream of him, Honor, so often, our hand- 
some boy, as he was before he went astray, 
and the awakening seems more than I can 

A pang shot through Honor's heart as she 
looked up into the fragile face, and she 
regretted having been carried away to speak 
of the prodigal 

" He will come back to us sooner or later," 
she said, hastily ; u I am certain of it. He is 
too fond of us to go far astray, The threats 
Uncle James used terrified him," 




"I am almost sorry we left the other 
house," Mrs. Latimer said, presently. 
" Suppose he came and found strangers 
occupying our place ? " 

" He has only to ask in the neighbourhood 
to find us no farther than the next road," 
said Honor. " Don't let that worry you* He 
will come home to us some day." 

She spoke with a cheerfulness she was far 
from experiencing ; the thought had often 
occurred to her that Jim f her only brother, 
must be dead. Heedless and headstrong he 
might be, but he had always possessed a 
warm heart, and would not have left them 
to anxiety for so long. Twice her wedding 
had been postponed, but the prodigal still 
delayed, and in a few days her marriage 
would be an accomplished fact. 

Presently Mrs* Latimer said "good-night" 
and went to bed. After lighting her candle 
and watching her up the staircase, Honor 
returned to the room 
in which they had 
spent the evening. 
An unbearable rest- 
lessness was upon her, 
and she could settle 
to nothing, though 
there were notes to 
be written and a host 
of other things to be 

She heard the ser- 
vants troop up to bed, 
and then a silence fell 
upon the house, only 
broken by the melan- 
choly soughing of the 
wind among the trees 
in the garden. The 
loneliness and silence 
told after a time, and 
she rose to follow 
her mother's example, 
though sleep was the 
farthest thing from her 
thoughts, "She exam- 
ined the window fasten- 
ings, and picking up 
the case containing the 
pendant, placed it 
among the presents 
on the table. The 
thought occurred to 
her that there ought 
to be a place in which to lock up the 
valuables, but in her preoccupation the 
fact troubled her little, Jim was the one 
absorbing thought* ousting even Ronald 


from her mind. A mental picture of Jim, 
destitute and starving, rose before her con- 
tinually, embittering her life, and she could 
look forward to nothing until she was at rest 
about him. 

She looked in at her mother on the way to 
her own room, and found her sleeping tran- 
quilly. At the sight of the thin cheek on 
the pillow, Honor's heart contracted pain- 
fully ; her mother grew paler and more 
fragile day by day, and the doctors had said 
that in the weak state of her heart a sudden 
shock might prove fatal. A tear dropped on 
the thin hand lying outside the counterpane, 
and Honor crept away to her own room, 
When ready for bed she lay in the 
darkness, feeling every nerve acutely on 
the alert. 

The clock in the hall below ticked 
solemnly and struck the hour from time to 
time, and Honor could hear the faint sound 
of the cuckoo. She 
remembered the little 
bird as long as she 
could rem em ber an y- 
thing; from babyhood 
it had been the delight 
of herself and Jim, 
with its perky, imper- 
tinent manner, and the 
brisk way in which 
it bounced out and 
in again. Hot tears 
blinded Honors eyes 
and soaked into her 

There came a faint 
sound from below, so 
faint as only to make 
the stillness more 
noticeable. The wind 
moaned round the 
house, but fitfully, as 
if a storm were gather- 
ing at a distance. 
Honor half sat up in 
bed, straining her ear 
to listen. There was 
not a stir in the 
house, yet she felt 
convinced that some- 
one .shared her vigil. 
Fearing her mother 
might be ill, and 
yet not wishing to 
disturb her if she slept, she drew herself 
noiselessly out of bed, and groped for her 
dressing-gown without striking a light On 
her way she looked into the wide hall below. 



2 3 

A faint glimmer illumined it, and her eyes 
soon became accustomed to the dim light. 
Someone stood facing the clock. Click ! 
the doors flew open, and out sprang the 

One* two, three. The doors closed again 
There was a faint sound, which might have 
been a box of matches falling on the tiled 
floor. It was followed by a smothered ex- 
clamation. The figure stole away in the 
direction of the morning-room, where she 
and her mother had lately been sitting. 
Honor remained in the dark motionless, 
wondering what she had better do. All the 
servants were women, and to awaken -them 
meant rousing her mother, and that she 
dare not do. 

She gathered her dressing-gown closely 
round her and crept noiselessly from stair 


to stair, quivering all over as they creaked 
under her bare feet, but never pausing until 
she stood at the half-open door of the 
morning-room and looked in. What she 
saw froze her into immovability. A film 
swam before her eyes. It was Jim ! The 


with the 
suppose ! 

of this, 
a scare ? 


prodigal had returned, but why in this way ? 
What could it mean ? She rubbed her eyes 
incredulously, There was another man 
standing near the window, but it was upon 
Jim her glance was fixed with reluctant, 
fascinated horror, 

Jim leaned against the mantelpiece, his 
face was white and drawn, and in his eyes 
was reproduced some of the incredulity of 

" I can't, I tell you/ 7 he spoke in a low voice, 
that yet came clearly to the listener. " I 
promised, as it was to be the last time, but I 
break my word— I must get out of this, I tell 
you. That clock ! My God \ what I'd give 
not to feel such a scoundrel ! ? ' 

" Clock ? What are you raving 
said the other. i& What's wrong 
clock ? They must strike, I 
Come on, let's get out 
What's given you such 
You might have seen a ghost" 

" So I have, the place is full 
them. I must go ; the very air 
stifles me." He stood upright and 
moved towards the door. 

" Not a foot until you've done 
your share," replied the other, 
advancing, and Honor could sec his 
evil, dissipated face ; * ( don't desert 
an old chum." 

14 1 wish to Heaven I had years 
ago, Hanimersley. You've been my 
curse ever since I've known you. 
Let's clear out-" 

Honor started at the name, that 
of an old schoolfellow. She pushed 
the door open farther, and the light 
fell full upon her, disclosing her 
white face with its glittering aureole 
of hair, and the blue eyes wide with 

Hammersley dropped the trinket 
he held with a little sharp tinkle, 
and drew back into the shade 
shamefacedly. But Honor never 
noticed him, all her glance was for 
Jim, who stood rigidly upright, 
staring at her as if she were a 
visitant from the grave. 

" Honor 1 " the words came with 

difficulty from his parched throat, 

11 You ! What does it mean ? w 

Honor advanced a step nearer. 

11 Mviin / " She spoke in a clear, relentless 

voice, half mad with the disgrace of it alh 

" Mean ? It means that you have sunk so 

low as to rob your mother and lister of a few 

valuables, Gttghvahirthmt you have broken 


2 4 


into your mothers house like a common 

thief. No, no " Her voice vibrated 

with a sharp throb of pain — " even the lowest, 
the most degraded, would think twice before 
robbing his own " 

The light showed clearly all the misery of 
Jim's handsome, haggard young face. 

" I swear to you " he began r but Honor 

went on speaking, her voice low with con- 
centrated scorn, and he drew back under the 
lash of her glance. 

" Why did you not die years ago ? Only 
to-night we were talking of you, praying that 
you might return, and this is how God 
answers our prayers ! " 

She pointed to the table, and Jim's head 
sank lower. 

"lake them all if you want them, but go." 

He moved blindly 
towards the door, and 
as he reached it, a foot- 
step sounded along 
the passage, and Mrs, 
Latimer appeared* 
Before Honor could 
stir she had caught 
sight of Jim, and put- 
ting down the light she 
carried, she made a 
little run forward, and 
put her arms round 
his neck. 

" (lod bless you, my 
own boy. I knew you 
would come," she said, 
and fell inertly with 
her cheek against his. 

Above his mother's 
head, Jim's eyes met 

those of Honor, in anguished appeal As 
he stood hoiuidg his mother in his arms his 
punishment seemed greater -than he could 

A fresh fear took possession of Honor, and 
for a moment she dared not ascertain the 
worst. Had not the doctors talked of a 
sudden shock ? 

" Bring her here," she said, indicating a 
couch close by ; " she must never know, poor, 
poor mother ! " 

In the bustle that ensued Hammeraley 
made good his escape, unnoticed by anyone. 
Honor applied restoratives, and after a long 
time -Mrs. Latimer came back to conscious- 
ness, Her glance sought for Jim ; Honor 
motioned him over, 

w My own darling boy, why did you come 
back so late? How 
thin and white you 
are ! We must feed 
him well, must we 
not. Honor?" 

She stroked his 
face as he bent over 
her, and under her 
loving trust and entire 
of the true facts of 
the case Jim suddenly 
broke down, and, like 
a penitent child, 
buried his face in a 
fold of her dressing- 
go w n ♦ And she 
never knew the truth. 
But even Honor, who 
knows, has perfect 
faith now in Jim. 


by Google 

Original from 

In Nature's Workshop. 

By Grant Allen. 

N a certain sense, all animated 
nature is but a single vast co- 
operative society. I am no 
foolish optimist : I will admit, 
indeed, that the members of 
the society so composed often 
display to one another the most unfriendly 
and unfraternal spirit. The hawks, for 
instance, show a distinct want of true 
brotherly love towards the larks or the tom- 
tits : and the mice and lizards find the owls 
and the cats by no means clubbable. The 
co-operative society is hardly what one could 
call a happy family. Still, in spite of the 
fact insisted upon by the poet that " Nature 
is one with rapine — a harm no preacher can 
heal," it is none the less true that a certain 
rough balance, an accommodation or adjust- 
ment of part to part, occurs in every depart- 
ment of animal and vegetable life. When 
we come to think, it could hardly be 
otherwise. 'Things can only exist if they 
contain in themselves the conditions neces- 
sary to existence. An unadapted animal 
or plant perishes instantly. Spiders could 
not live in an island which contained 
no flies ; kingfishers necessarily presup- 
pose fish ; and silkworms imply the 
presence of mulberry leaves. You cannot 
have vultures wild in a country where there 
are no dead animals lying about loose ; nor 
can you keep bees except where there are 
heney-bearing flowers. Dutch clover de- 
pends for its very existence upon a few 
insects which fertilize it and set its seeds. 
The draining of the fens killed out a dozen 
species of English plants and animals ; the 
inclosure of the prairies deprived the 
buffaloes of their chance of pasture. In 
this sense, all nature hangs together as it 
were; each species fills some place in the 
great mosaic which cannot be altered without 
considerable disturbance of adjacent pieces. 
Destroy the rabbits in a given area, and you 
have nothing left for the weasels to feed upon. 
Sometimes? too, apparently unimportant or 
unnoticed creatures perform in the aggregate 
some valuable work for the rest of the plant 
and animal community, which little suspects 
its real indebtedness to them. Darwin 
showed long ago that the humble and de- 

spised earthworm was really answerable for 
the greater part of that rich layer of vegetable 
mould or soil which covers the bare rocks ; 
it deposits the material in which all our plants 
root and from which they derive a large 
element of their sustenance. Kill out the 
earthworms over the whole of our earth, and 
you would reduce a vast proportion of it to 
the condition of a desett. For the worms pull 
down green leaves into their neat little burrows; 
and the refuse of these leaves, continually 
renewed from season to season by the in- 
dustrious small workmen, forms by far the 
greater share of that dark layer of vegetable 
mould which is the chief source of the 
fertility in plains and lowlands. Sandy up- 
land spots, where worms are few, form little 
or no soil, and will only support a poor moor- 
land growth of gorse and heather. You 
must have plenty of worms if you want to 
grow corn or turnips. 

But there are other unconsidered creatures 
besides these, creatures which perform for 
us functions almost as useful and important 
as those of the earthworms ; and I propose 
to devote a few pages here to one such group, 
the sanitary commissioners of the insect 
world, as I will venture to call them — the 
vast body of minor sextons and six-legged 
scavengers. Has it ever struck you that 
as you walk abroad through the rich green 
meadows and pastures of England, you 
almost never come across a dead and decay- 
ing animal ? I do not mean large animals 
like horses and donkeys : those do some- 
times occur unburied, giving us bold and un- 
pleasant advertisement of their near presence. 
But just consider that the fields through 
which you stroll are a perfect warren of moles 
and shrews and field-mice and water-voles 
and frogs and lizards and rabbits and weasels, 
to say nothing of smaller fry ; and then think 
how seldom on your morning rounds in the 
country you come across a single dead bird 
or rat or adder, a departed toad, or a late 
lamented leveret. The ground about you 
teems with life : but where are its cemeteries ? 
Squirrels and dormice are dying in every 
copse : but what becomes of their bodies ? 
Who ever saw a dead bat ? Who knows the 
tomb of the deceased hedgehogs ? 


u 1 1 i a I I i ■_' 




Of course a great many of the smaller 
animals die a violent death, and find their 
living grave in the maw of their devourers 
one must admit that explanation as covering 
a very large number of cases. Thirty field- 
mice have been disinterred from the stomach 
of a single buzzard when it was shot in the 
act of digesting after a good dinner ; and 
owls and snakes are answerable for the fate 
of no small proportion of our minuter wild 
animals. In other countries, too, vultures 
and jackals devour most of the carrion as it 
lies; while even in England we have a few 
dead- meat-eaters, such as the carrion-crow, 
the rat, and the shrike. But for the most 
part our rural English public scavengers are 
smaller and less conspicuous creatures. 
Foremost among thern in number and utility 
we may reckon the various kinds of burying 

If you do find the body of a mouse or 
shrew lying unburied in England, it occurs 
almost always on a path or high-road. Now 
this fact is in itself significant ; for the high- 
road is practically a man-made desert, so 
hardened and steam-rollered, so pounded 
and wheel-ridden, that no plant ran grow on 
it ; so exposed that small animals will only 
scurry across it for dear life in fear and 
trembling; and so difficult to dig into that 
no burrowing creature can hope to worm 
his toilsome way through it. Hence the 
animals that die on the road are 
almost never buried ; while those 
that die in the field or copse are 
either eaten at once by larger 
beasts, or else decently interred 
within a few hours by the sexton 
beetles and other established 
scavengers. Indeed, a common 
superstition exists among country 
folk that one of the small long- 
nosed, insect-eating animals known 
as shrews cannot so much as cross 
a road without being killed in- 
stantly, A human track is sup- 
posed to be fatal to them, The 
superstition has arisen in this way : 
shrews die of cold and hunger in 
great numbers at the approach of 
winter. A certain proportion of 
them perish thus in the open 
fields ; these, however, are im- 
mediately buried by the proper authorities, 
the sexton beetles. But a few happen to 
die as they are crossing a road or path ; 
these lie where they fell, because the 
sextons cannot there pierce the hard 
ground, and seldom even dare venture 

on the road to carry them off to softer 
spots for burial The rustic sees dead 
shrews in the road, and none on the open 
ground : S9 he hastily concludes in his easy- 
going way that to cross a human path is 
sudden death to shrews, who are always 
supposed for other reasons to be witch-like 
and uncanny animals. If the road leads to 
a church, a fatal stroke is specially certain : 
for the shrews, like all witch-creatures, hate 

I need hardly say, however, that the bury- 
ing beetles do not perform their strange 
funereal office out of pure benevolence, with- 
out hope of reward. Like human sextons 
and undertakers, they adopt their lugubrious 
calling for the sake of gain : they expect to 
be paid for their sanitary services. The 
payment is taken in two forms : one, im- 
mediate, as food for themselves ; the other, 
deferred, as board and lodging for their 

Our illustration No. 1 introduces us to a 
typical miscellaneous group of these insect 
scavengers, occupied in appropriating a very 
fine and desirable carcass on which they 

by Google 


have just lighted A field-mouse, vanquished 
by fate in the struggle for existence, has 
lately i( turned up his toes" in the most 
literal sense, and lies unburied, like Archytas, 
on the loose sand of a bare patch in a 
meadow. All carrion -eating creatures arc 
Original from 




remarkable for their powerful sense of smell : 
and the sexton beetles, like the vultures and 
condors, are no exception to the rule. They 
sniff their prey from afar : for where the 
carcass is, there shall the carrion beetles be 
gathered together. All are eager to take 
their share of the feast, and still more to lay 
their eggs in the dead body. Some of them 
may crawl up from the immediate neighbour- 
hood : others, summoned from afar> come 
flying on their gauze-like wings from con- 
siderable distances. They are, as a rule, 
nocturnal creatures, and they come out on 
their burying expeditions hy night alone. 

The insect just alighting from his flight, in 
the upper part of the illustration, is the 
burying beetle par excellence among our 
British kinds \ he rejoices (we are always 
supposed to rejoice foolishly in our personal 
designations) in the dignified title of Necro- 
phorus vespillo. In stature he measures 
about an inch 
long, and he is 
a handsome 
beast, with two 
bright orange 
bands on his 
hard wing- 
covers, The 
i 1 lu strat i on 
shows these 
wing -covers 
raised, as is the 
habit of beetles 
when they fly, 
while the thin 
but powerful 
wings beneath 
them are ex- 
panded as true 
pinions. When 
the insect 
alights, he folds 

the wings up carefully and replaces them 
under the hard protective wing-covers : he 
is then securely armour-plated from head to 
foot, and need fear no foe, save birds which 
swallow him whole— a very tough morsel — 
and hedgehogs which crunch him in their 
strong jaws before eating him. However, he 
is well prepared for all such enemies, for he 
can exude when attacked a very nasty fluid 
with a disgusting smell : and this mode of 
defence, which resembles that of the skunk 
and the polecat, usually protects him from 
obtrusive inquirers. He must be handled 
with caution, as the perfume he diffuses 
spoils woollen clothes and clings to the 
fingers after two or three washings. 

Digitized by CiOOgle 

As a rule, when a carcass appears, a paii 
of burying beetles of the same species — a 
husband and wife — fly up to the scene of 
operations together and take possession of 
the prey ; though in the illustration Mr. 
Knock has represented several kinds engaged 
at once in staking out claims, which indeed 
happens often enough in nature* But if you 
count the number on any one dead bird or 
animal, you will almost always find they are 
even in number — in other words, so many 



male and female. No. 2 shows us the 
next act in the funeral drama. The male 
beetles, after satisfying their own immediate 
hunger, proceed to bury the carcass in a very 
curious and laborious manner. You would 
wonder how so small a creature could pro- 
duce so great a result : the fact is, the beetles 
attain their end by continuous under-cutting. 
The female hides herself in the body : the 
male buries her alive and the dead creature 

with her. He 
first drags the 
mouse, frog, or 
bird to a suit- 
able Spot where 
the soil is soft 
enough to 
admit of exca- 
vation ; and 
three or four 
males have to 
combine for 
this purpose. 
They then pro- 
ceed to dig with 
their heads, 
which are tools 
specialized for 
the purpose, 
and provided 
with strong and 
powerful muscles. The antennae have also 
assumed for this object a short club-shaped 
type, very suitable for a navvy's mattock. 
The little engineers begin by excavating a 
furrow all round the body, and then a second 
inside that again, throwing the earth out of 
each into the previous one ; and so on till 
the carcass begins to sink into the hollow. 
They then dig and tunnel beneath it, carry- 
ing out loads of earth, one after another, till 
bit by bit the carcass collapses into the hole, 
first in front, then behind, and has reached a 
level considerably below the surface. Then 
they throw in the earth they have excavated, 
and cover up the body with the females 

inside it ; after which, I regret to say, they 




proceed to hold a very cannibalistic funeral 
service above it. The funeral service con- 
sists in eating as much of the body as 
they desire for their own purposes : when 
they have satisfied their appetite, they 
begin to think of the interests of posterity. 
The mother beetle proceeds to lay her tale of 
eggs in the decently-buried body, for every 
animal knows by instinct the precise place in 
which to deposit its young and the precise 
food which happens to suit them* 

After the eggs are laid, the two parent 
beetles crawl out of the hole and cover it 
carefully up so as to conceal the hiding-place. 
So far as they themselves are concerned, 
their only object in all this is to 
procure food for themselves and 
their infant young. But the 
wider effects of such scavenger 
insects go very far. For we 
now know that there is no disin- 
fectant so good as the top layer 
of the soil, which is not really 
mere dead earth (as most people 
imagine \ but a mingled mass of 
ramifying life— a little foundation 
of clay and sand intermixed with 
endless minute organisms, both 
animal and vegetable — fungi, 
bacteria, mites, weevils, and all 
sorts of petty creatures, which 
eat up and destroy harmlessly 
all dead matter subjected to 
their influence. The earth is 
thus a most admirable deodorizer 
and purifier : and burial in its 
top layers, the body being freely 
exposed to the rapid action of 
the devouring microbes, is a most 
sanitary mode of disposing of refuse. Thus the 
part that is played in the East by vultures and 
jackals, or by the wild dogs of Constantinople, 
is far more effectually and unobtrusively 
played in our fields and meadows by the 
many kinds of burying beetles and other 
Insect scavengers. If we remember how 
great a nuisance a single dead rat becomes 
in a house, we can faintly picture to our- 
selves the debt we owe to these excellent 
and unnoticed little sanitary commissioners. 
Without them, our fields would not smell so 
fresh, nor would our flowers bloom so bright ; 
for we must remember that by burying the 
dead beasts they are not only preventing 
disease but also manuring the pastures in 
the best possible fashion. The bones of 
small animals decay rapidly and make 
excellent material for the growth of vegeta- 
tion. The beetles as a rule hunt by night 

Digitized by G* 

only, and find their prey, as vultures do t by 
the sense of smell When they first find it, 
the male hovers above it like an eagle, 
circling round and round, so as to point it 
out to his mate ; the female flies straight to 
it, and buries herself without delay in the 
rich banquet. 

But what becomes at last of the buried 
bodies ? No. 3 will show you. The female 
beetle lays in each body about as many eggs 
as she thinks it will support. In a very 
short time the eggs hatch out, and the 
grubs begin to devour the abundant feast 
provided for them. The two grubs to the 
right in the illustration are the young of 


our friend the orange-banded burying beetle : 
the one to the left is a larva of an allied 
form known by the poetical name of Silpha, 
They set to work at once on the remains 
of the mouse, and thoroughly strip the 
bones of every fibre of flesh. As soon as 
the skeleton is bare, they consider it time to 
leave off feeding, and pass on to the second 
stage of their existence — the pupa, or 

As larvre, the young burying beetles look 
like worms, and have six short legs. No. 4 
shows them in the intermediate stage, when 
they have retired into a clay cell, or cocoon, 
and are undergoing their transformation into 
the perfecL insect* We are here supposed 
to have removed the soil on one side so 
as to give a view into the concreted earthen 
chambers where the pupre are changing into 
full-grown beetles. Y011 can see the much 
Original from 




longer legs of the adult insect beginning to 
dt^elop, while the head assumes slowly its 
later form. The grubs remain in the cocoon 
through the winter, and emerge in spring as 
winged beetles, when they fly away with their 
brilliant wing-cases raised, in search of con- 
genial mates and more dead field-mice. The 
best places to look for all these beetles are 
the " keeper's trees," on which game-keepers 
hang up the jays and weasels they shoot, 
to encourage the others* If you tap one 
such dead weasel you will generally find it is 
simply swarming with insect life. 

Yet, strange to say, even the insect under- 
takers themselves are not without their ideas 
of beauty and their musical perceptions. The 


orange bands of our commonest English kind 
have been developed as attractions for their 
admiring mates ; and the male beetles have 
also a musical instrument of their own in 
the shape of a peculiar rasp-like ring on 
the body, which they can rub against 
the wing-cases, and so produce a much- 
appreciated chirping. Such instrumental 
music is always employed, like the song of 
birds, as a charm to heighten the attractive- 
ness of the suitor : and male burying beetles 
may be heard on the evenings of sunny days 
competing with one another in musical 
contests. Indeed, it often happens that 
animals which seem to us disgusting or 
unclean display among themselves much 
aesthetic taste, and are gifted with more sense 
of beauty or love of music than many other 

by LiOOgle 

forms where our human eyes would be more 
inclined to look for the presence of these 
higher endowments. 

I may add that if the beetles left the bodies 
in which they laid their eggs to lie above 
ground, the bodies would dry up, and the 
eggs would run much greater risks, By 
burying the dead animal, they provide their 
young with food and shelter together and so 
display considerable intelligence. 

Another very distinct group of insects 
which act as scavengers in a different way in 
hotter climates than ours are the famous 
scarabs or sacred beetles, worshipped almost 
like gods by the ancient Egyptians. English 
people know the scarabs best, I think, in the 
neighbourhood of Naples, or on 
the Lido at Venice — that great 
bank of sand and shingle which 
separates the lagoons from the 
open Adriatic, When wearied with 
sight-seeing at St Mark's and the 
Doge's Palace, we have, most of 
us, taken the little steamer that 
runs across to the baths on the 
Lido, and spent a plea&ant hour 
or two in picking up shells and 
dried sea-horses on the firm belt of 
beach that stretches away £0 Mala- 
mocco. A little inland, the beach 
gives way to dry sand-hills, blown 
about by the wind, and overgrown 
by patches of blue-green maram- 
gtass and other sandy seaside 
weeds. If you lie down on one of 
these sand-hills, choosing a spot 
not quite so dirty as its neigh- 
bours, you will soon be amused by 
seeing a curious little comedy going 
on perpetually around you in every 
direction. A number of odd- 
looking beetles, with long hind legs and very 
quaint heads, are occupied with ceaseless 
industry in rolling a lot of dark, round balls 
almost as big as themselves along the slopes 
of the sand-hills. In many places, the whole 
ground is alive with the tugging and pushing 
little beasts : indeed, when you come to look 
close you will find that every half acre of 
sand on the Venetian shore or the lower 
edge of the Egyptian desert is a perfect city 
of these busy wee creatures. Earth is honey- 
combed with their holes, towards which 
innumerable beetles are continually rolling 
their mysterious balls at every possible angle. 
Now, what are the balls composed of? 
There comes the oddest part of the whole 
odd proceeding. The plain truth of it is that 
the sacred beetles are assistant scavengers 


3 o 


— imperfect Southern and Oriental substi- 
tutes for a main drainage system. The halls 
consist of dung, dirt, and refuse, and the 
beetles collect them on the open, dry them 
hard in the sun, roil them to the mouths of 
their burrows, and then live on them till the 
ball has all been eaten. It is the funniest 
thing in the world to watch them. They 
tumble about in the loose sand and stumble 
over little eminences in the most comical 
fashion. No, 5 shows a. pair of scarabs 
engaged in this habitual and quaint amuse- 
ment. They have each collected a round 
mass of manure, and rolled and dried it nicely 
into shape; they are now engaged in trund- 
ling their booty off at their leisure to 
a place of safety. * But they are obliged 
to push the balls backward with 
their long hind legs : and as this 
precludes the possibility of the 
scarab seeing where it is going, 

5.— sacked scakau5 rolling their food-halls backward 
kiuht has lost his lhnne:h)l 

each beetle pauses every now and again and 
turns round y like a man sculling in a boat 
alone, to look what is ahead of him. Some- 
times in doing so he loses his ball, a misfortune 
which has just happened to the beetle on the 
right in No, 5. The precious pellet goes 
bounding off down hill as fast as gravitation 
will take it. In this case, the disappointed 
little workman faces round and darts after it 
at full speed, going forward now instead of 
backward, and trying to head the ball as it 
rolls down the uncertain slope of the sand- 
hills. If he succeeds, he puts himself in 
Front of the ball as it falls, catches it 
with his hind legs, and begins once more 
laboriously to push it backward up hill 
again, towards the mouth of his hole. 

Digitized by G* 

But as the pellets roll quickly, and the beetles 
are by no means rapid runners, he seldom 
succeeds in recovering his own property, 
unless the ball happens to catch for a moment 
on some projecting little hillock of sand, or 
be checked on its downward course by a 
weed, a stick, or a dead shell or starfish. 

On the other hand, the scarabs, I fear I 
must admit, are terrible thieves ; and if one 
scarab has lost his own ball T and sees some 
companion's pellet come rolling down hill 
towards him, he will often give up the pur- 
suit of his lost property, and quietly and 
barefacedly appropriate his neighbours. I 
have seen great fights take place at 
times over a disputed ball ; though some- 
times the combatants agree amicably to 
roll it along in common, 
and probably share it 
when they have reached 
their hole. Sometimes, 
again, three or four will 
unite to roll a ball : 
and then, when one 
loses it, the others com- 
bine to hold it up or 
catch it. I have spent 
hours together both in 
Egypt and on the Medi- 
terranean or the Adriatic 
in watching the queer 
antics of these comic 
little commissioners of 
drainage : and I never 
tire of observing their 
odd and unexpected 
combinations of interest. 
I have sometimes known 
the real owner abandon 
a ball in despair, from 
the unevenness of the 
ground, and then seen 
a couple of outsiders come up and succeed 
in doing what the true owner had been 
unable to accomplish. 

In No. 6 you see two such scarabs whose 
toil has at last been crowned by success, and 
who are delivering their balls with joy into 
the holes in the sand which form their resi- 
dences* As far as I can make out, a pair of 
beetles, male and female, seem usually to 
share a hole in common, and to roll balls of 
food to it either alone or in concert I can- 
not say I have ever seen much co-operation 
except between such partners, Once a ball 
is secured and safely landed — for here, as 
elsewhere, there's many a slip 'twixt the cup 
and the lip- the happy couple proceed to 
eat it up, and apparently do not emerge 


(the insect to the 



again from their burrow till the supply is 
exhausted. Patient naturalists say that one 
ball has been known to last a scarab as long 
as a fortnight, hut this I do not vouch for of 
personal knowledge. When more food is 


wanted, the couple emerge once more on the 
open sand and begin to collect fresh dung 
and refuse, which they roll into a new food- 
ball and then dry and harden. 

Till very lately, it was universally believed 
that the female scarab laid an egg in some of 
the balls, and that the young grubs hatched 
within such food-stocks and began at once to 
devour them. This belief has recently been 
contradicted with great emphasis by a good 
French observer, who opened many balls and 
found no eggs ; but I cannot accept his con- 
clusion. I opened numbers of balls myself 
near Venice this year, and saw in several one 
or two eggs, while in one case (unearthed 
from a hole) I discovered a hall-grown larva. 
I venture therefore in this matter to believe 
my own eyes as against those of even the most 
celebrated and authoritative entomologists. 

In Egypt, it has been universally believed 
from all antiquity— and I think quite rightly 
—that after the scarab has laid an egg 
in the ball, the parents unite in rolling it 
to a place of safety, above the level of the 
annual inundation due to the rise of the 
Nile. At any rate, scarabs abound in 
Egypt. At a very early date, it would 
seem, the curious action of these beetles 
attracted the attention of the ancient 
Egyptians, whose worship of animals was 

by LiOOglC 

one of the most marked features in their 
monstrous religion. Hence grew a strange 
and widespread superstition. A race which 
deified the hawk, the cat, 
the ibis, and the jackal 
was not likely to overlook 
the marvellous proceed- 
ings of the pious and 
dutiful scarab. So the 
very early Egyptians, we 
may conjecture, began 
by thinking there must 
be something divine in 
the nature of an insect 
which worked so cease- 
lessly on behalf of its 
young, and rolled such 
big round balls behind it 
up such relatively large 
hillocks. Watching a 
little closer, as time went 
on, the Egyptian dis- 
covered, no doubt, that 
sacred beetles did not 
proceed directly from 
sacred beetles, like 
lambs from ewes, but 
grew, as it were, out of 
the dirt and corruption 
j of the mysterious pellets. A modern observer 
would, of course, at once suspect that the 
scarab laid an egg inside the ball, and would 
promptly proceed to pull one open and look 
for it. But that cold scientific method was 
not likely to commend itself to the mystic 
and deeply religious Egyptian mind. The 
priests by the Nile jumped rather to the 
conclusion that the scarab collected dirt in 
order to make a future scarab out of clay, 
and that from this dirt the young beetle 
grew, self-existent, sel ^developed, self-created. 
Considering the absence of scientific know- 
ledge and comparative groups of scientific 
facts at the time, such a conclusion was by 
no means unnatural. 

Once started on so strange a set of ideas, 
the Egyptians proceeded to evolve a worship 
of the scarab which grew ever and developed, 
as they thought the scarab itself did, practi- 
cally out of nothing. The immortality of the 
soui and the resurrection of the body were 
the central ideas of Egyptian religion : the 
thinkers of Thebes and Memphis instantly 
perceived a fanciful analogy between the 
scarab rising from its bed of dirt and the 
mummy reviving when the expected day of 
resurrection should at last arrive. As a con- 
sequence of this analogy, the scarab was made 
sacred : it was reverenced during its life and 




often preserved after its death, like the 
mummied cats and hawks and .sacred Apis 
bulls which formed such special objects of 
veneration to the devout of Egypt. All sorts 
of mystic relations were also discovered 
before long in the scarab: its "toes" were 
counted as thirty, and held to symbolize 
the days of the month : it was said to be 
male only, without a female, and so to typify 
the creative power and the paternal or 
masculine principle in nature. Sun-worship, 
as we know, formed a large part of the later 
(though not of the most primitive) Egyptian 
religion : and the ball rolled by the scarab 
was therefore supposed to personify Ra, the 
great sun -god* In one way or another, the 
sanctity and the mystic implications of the 
scarab grew- and grew, age after age, until at 
last scarab- worship became one of the chief 
practical elements in the religion of Egypt, 
There was a scar a beheaded 
god, and scarab hieroglyphs 
appear on the face of all 
the monuments. 

It is as a charm or 
amulet, however, that the 
ancient Egyptian imitation 
scarab is best known. 
From a very early period 
in the history of the Nile 
valley it became usual for 
luck's sake to bury some 
of these sacred beetles uith 
the mummy, perhaps alive 
(in which case most of 
them would no doubt creep 
out again) and perhaps also 
dead. A few real scarabs 
have thus been found here 
and there in tombs, But 
for the most part, just as 
the Egyptians buried little porcelain images 
to accompany the mummy, so they buried 
porcelain or stone scarabs ; and these were 
rather closely imitated from the living 
insect, but made still more sacred by being 
enamelled or engraved with the holy name 
of some king or god. Scarabs of this kind, 
inscribed with sacred words, and regarded as 
talismans, form some of the commonest 
objects disinterred in all the Egyptian 
excavations : one of them, from a specimen 
in the British Museum, is illustrated in 
No* 7. Comparison with the live beetles in 
the other engravings will show how well the 
Egyptians copied nature in this instance. 

These beautiful and often costly Egyptian 
scarabs have been made the subject of very 
exhaustive study by various writers, more 

particularly by Mr. Loftie and Mr, Flinders 
Petrie, The Egyptians did not coin money, 
so that scarabs bearing the names of kings 
came to have somewhat the same importance 
for Egyptian history as coins have for the 
history of later civilized nations, Mr, Loftie 
traces the origin of the inscribed scarabs to a 
very early epoch in the Egyptian annals. 
"From the earliest times until the end of 
the native monarchy," he says, li certain 
usages continued unchanged. Among them 
was the inscription of names and texts on 
scarabs. The beetle which rolls before it >f 
—he ought rather to have said behind it — 
" a ball of mud in which its egg is concealed 
was, at some period so remote that we 
cannot even approximately date it, seized 
upon as the embodiment of the idea of 
futurity. , , , The scarab, burying his egg, 
became the symbol Gf the resurrection, of the 
happy time to come* of a 
re-creation of all things ; 
and with every corpse 
scarabs were buried, and 
scarabs were sewed upon 
the shroud, and strung 
into *a network to cover 
the body, and suspended 
round the neck, and clasped 
in the dead hands. As many 
as three thousand scarabs 
have been found in one 
tomb, and the number in 
existence in museums and 
private collections is past 
count-" Some of these 
beetles are of 



by Google 

blue pottery, enamelled 
outside ; but others are of 
lapis-lazuli, jade, catraelian, 
and many other precious 
stones, Sacred in themselves by their very 
form, that of the revered insect god, they are 
rendered still more sacred by their mystic 
inscriptions, which consist of appropriate 
religious phrases in hieroglyphic writing. 

Krom Egypt, the belief in the luck and 
value of engraved scarabs as charms or 
amulets passed on to the Greeks, and also 
to the Etruscans. Many Greek scarabs 
have been found ; and in the old Etruscan 
tombs such lucky beasts are comparatively 
common. They are mostly made more or 
less in imitation of the Egyptian originals. 
Oddly enough, even the early Christians 
themselves did not at once get over the 
belief in the sanctity and talisman ic character 
of the sacred beetle, for the Rev, W, J* 
Loftie has pointed out examples of late 
Original from 



scarabs engraved with undoubted Christian 
symbols — not only crosses but even crucifixes. 
In our own days, a slight revival of the 
antique superstition has once more taken 
place, and some ladies of my acquaintance 
wear specimens of the old sacred beetles as 
charms in brooches or suspended on their 

Though such numbers of true ancient 
scarabs have been unearthed in Egypt, still 
the supply of the genuine article does not 
quite keep pace with the increasing de- 
mands of the modern tourist : and there is 
now a flourishing manufactory of sham 
antiques at Luxor, where hundreds of false 
scarabs with nice imitation hieroglyphic 
inscriptions are neatly turned out for the 
market every season. 

About sixty different- kinds of live scarabs 
are known to inhabit the Mediterranean dis- 
trict in Europe, Asia, or Africa : and four 
of these kinds can be easily distinguished 
as being individually represented in the old 
Egyptian gems. We have no true scarab 
of this class living in Britain : but there are 
other scavenger beetles which take their 
place, the best known being the common 
dor-beetle. One of the same family, but 
with a quaintly horned head, exists in vast 
numbers on the Surrey hills where I have 
pitched my tent. This English dung-beetle 
burrows in the soft sandstone, and throws 
up neat little heaps of clean sand at the 
mouth of its hole, like miniature mole- 
hills. Still, our English scavenger beetles — 
known to science as Geotrupes— are not 
nearly so clever or so interesting as the 
southern type, for the female in our sort 
merely grubs a straight tunnel in the ground, 
and lays her egg in a loose mass of dung, 
which she drags to the bottom in a shapeless 
condition. This beetle utters- a plaintive 
buzzing cry when it is chasing its mate — a 
sort of " last appeal " which seems calculated 
to soften the heart of the hardest lady beetle. 
It is as cunning in its way as most others 
of its race, for if you catch it in your 
hand, it at once draws in its legs to its 
side and "shams dead." All the English 
and foreign scavenger beetles perform 
a useful task by following up animals 
and clearing away their refuse ; indeed, 
a special kind of beetle lays itself out as 
scavenger for each species of large animal, 
one kind being attached to the cow, one 
to the donkey, one to the camel, and 

so on through a long list of patrons and 

You will thus see that in this wider sense 
all creation moves together like a vast joint- 
stock co-operative society, each kind working 
consciously for its own good alone, but each 
also in a certain deeper and unconscious w r ay 
contributing to the general well-being of all, 
by its exercise of some special function. 
Nevertheless, the function is always performed 
by each plant or animal itself for its own 
purposes ; it only incidentally serves to 
benefit the others. Thus the burying beetles 
and the scavenger beetles work first of all 
and ostensibly for their own food and 
the food of their offspring : it is merely 
as an incidental result, undesigned by them- 
selves, that they assist in purifying the air 
and the soil for all other species. Or, to 
put it still more simply, while these indus- 
trious little creatures are working individually 
for their own ends, they are also in the wider 
scheme of nature working unconsciously and 
almost unwillingly in the service of others. 
Nature bribes each kind, as it were, by some 
personal advantage to perform good w r ork for 
the benefit of the totality. 

The good work performed by the scavengers 
may be thus summed up. If dead bodies 
and the refuse of food were left about every- 
where freely on the open, germs of disease 
and putrefaction would fly about much 
more commonly than even at present. But 
a large number of scavenger animals, 
scavenger birds, and scavenger insects — 
hyenas, vultures, burying beetles, and so 
forth — act as public servants to prevent this 
calamity. Again, the earth needs the bodies 
and the refuse as fertilizers : and many of 
the scavengers carry down such materials 
into the first layer of the soil, where they 
become of enormous use in promoting the 
freer growth of vegetation. Thus, long 
before men learnt to bury their dead or to 
manure their fields, nature had invented 
both these processes, and registered them, 
so to speak, in the instincts and habits of a 
special class of insect sextons and sanitary 
inspectors. It is always so in life. There 
is hardly a human trade or a human activity 
which does not find its counterpart some- 
where in animal or vegetable life : and it 
will be my object, in future numbers of these 
papers, to set before you in other directions 
some such natural anticipations or fore- 
shadowings of man's inventions. 

Vol. xvii.— 6 

by Google 

Original from 

was swaggering down the road 
to Shomcliffe Camp ; that is 
to say f he was trying to swagger 
as much as his 5ft zin. of 
stature would allow. Lor the 
prettiest girl in Folkestone was hcMing on 
affectionately to his left arm, and in his right 
hand he displayed to full advantage his new 
silver-topped cane, the result of several 
weeks' savings, 

"Little Willie," as his comrades of the 
210th line called him, was the most 
"special" of "special enlistments." He 
had enlisted at a time when a war scare 
was running riot throughout the country, 
and the inspector-surgeon had passed 
him, saying that he was sure to grow to 
standard height as he was only just eighteen, 
although it was evident to anyone who 
glanced at the set look of his shoulders that 
he would never be a hair's breadth taller 
than he was. It was certainly rather trying 
to his three-month-old martial dignity to 
have the street urchins asking him as he 
strutted through the town whether " his ma 
knew he was out " — but that was nothing to 
the jeers of the men of his cornj^ny, and 
Little Willie had not found the life of a soldier 
of the Queen as alluring as the recruiting 
sergeant had painted it. 

But on this particular summer afternoon 
he had forgotten all that, for was not Nellie, 
his own little Nellie, tripping along by his 
side ?- and he never thought of his grievances 
when she smiled those sunny smiles of hers. 
He had known her for years j as children 
they had made mud-pies in the gutter 
together, and when he was a little older he 
used to spend the pence he got for holding 
horses and running errands in sweets for 
Nellie ; and now that they were grown up, 
and that she was in service and he w T as 
wearing a red coat, they "walked out" 
together, and talked of getting married. 

"When I get my stripes, Nell, w T e'Il get 
spliced, thet's what we'll do." 

Nell nodded her assent. 

"'Gw long 11 thetbe, Will?" 

"Not so very long, neither," he said, his 
boyish face lighting up with the ambition of 
a future field-marshal — "a year or two, may- 
be, maybe less — they're a-wanting good, 
steady men loike me." 

Here a loud voice behind them put an end 
to further confidences, "Ullo, little *un, 
where are yer a-going, so 'aughty-like ? Yer 
won't as much as look at a pal ! " 
b The two stopped and looked round as Big 
Bob finished his sentence, Willie with disgust 
written on every feature, Nellie with un- 
qualified admiration in her brown eyes. Big 
Bob was ac€is:cimeu to that sort of thing 




from the girls he condescended to talk to ; 
he was certainly a very handsome man — fair, 
curly hair, a fierce moustache, and light-bltie 
eyes that looked down protectingly on 
womankind in general. So without further 
ado he ranged up on the other side of Nellie 
with a " Pleased to meet yer, miss." 

For the rest of that walk poor Little Willie 
was decidedly " out of it." He had to dodge 
lamp-posts and walk on the curb, so that his 
six-foot rival should not be forced into the 
hedge on the other side ; however, there was 
one consolatory thought in his mind, namely, 
that if Nellie managed to impress Big Bob 
favourably — as he had little doubt she would 
— the latter perhaps would give up making 
Willie's barrack-room life a burden to him. 

Nellie did make a good impression on Big 
Bob; but, alas, for poor little Willie, it was not 
a one-sided affair. Next time the two lovers 
went forastroll, Nell was distinctly patronizing. 
"Why don't yer grow, Will ? Yer ain't as 
tall as me by a inch, and yer does look small 
in a red coat ! " 

This was an awful blow ; up till now, 
Nellie had been the only one person who 
told him he looked well in his uniform, and 
now that she should turn on him like this ! 

" Garn ! " he answered, " where's the use 
in bein' a lamp-post ? " 

" But Big Bob — I mean Mr. Jones— 'e ain't 
no lamp-post. 'E's a good sight broader in 
the shoulders than ever you'll be. Why, 'e'd 
make two of yer, 'e would ! " 

"Well, 'e don't draw no double pay, no 
'ow, and don't yer forget it, neither ! " 

After half an hour's walk these amenities 
produced a decided coolness, and when Big 
Bob strolled up and offered them the pleasure 
of his company, it was a great relief to both. 
But Little Willie felt very miserable indeed 
when he thought over the day's events, as he 
lay on his hard barrack bed that night and 
courted sleep in vain. 

" I'll make it up with her on Sunday," he 
kept on saying to himself by way of consola- 
tion. But when Sunday came round again, 
after a long,' weary week of bullying, Nellie 
was absent from the rendezvous, and he 
wandered disconsolately all over Folkestone' 
in the hope of meeting her. He did meet 
her — but hanging proudly on the stalwart 
arm of Bob Jones ! Poor Willie did not 
even reply to her "Good afternoon," but 
went straight back to his cheerless barrack- 
room and spent the remainder of the day in 
putting a vicious polish on his captain's sword 
and buttons, by way of relieving his feelings. 
Captain Archie Trevor was Little Willie's 

hero— he worshipped him at a distance, and 
proved his devotion by the care he took of 
that officer's effects. Captain Trevor's boots 
were the admiration of the parade, and even 
the colonel wondered how they always looked 
so bright and spotless. Willie was an ideal 
soldier's servant, and was quite happy if he 
won an occasional word of approbation from 
his hero ; for Willie had never forgotten 
how, during his first march-out with the 
battalion, when he was staggering along 
under his heavy rifle, with blistered feet and 
aching legs, wondering how long it would be 
before his knees gave way altogether, his 
stalwart captain had come up and cheered 
him with a few words, and had carried his 
rifle for him all the rest of the long, weary 
day. " I'd give a month's pay, thet I would, 
to shake 'ands with the captain," he had 
afterwards said to a comrade, in a burst of 
confidence ; and so it came about that there 
was never such an ideal soldier's servant as 
Little Willie. 

That evening A Company had a " smoker " 
in one of. the disused huts of Shorncliffe 
Camp. The hut was packed with unbelted 
warriors, who joined noisily in the choruses 
of the popular songs, and passed round 
buckets of beer to wet their throats between 
whiles. Little groups of men were sitting 
smoking all over the room, some on biscuit- 
tins, some on benches and tables, all chatting 
and laughing amongst themselves, and occa- 
sionally shouting spicy and personal remarks 
to the performers, who used a table as a 
stage, and were not -loth to pause in the 
middle of a song and accept a drink from a 
proffered mug or pail. 

One occupant of the room, however, took 
little interest in the proceedings. Willie had 
perched himself in a corner, where he sat 
unnoticed ; why he had come at all he did 
not know. Perhaps it was that anything was 
preferable to the deserted barrack-room in 
his present state of mind. There he sat on 
an upturned pail, with an untouched mug of 
beer beside him, giving no heed to what 
went on around, dismally busy with his own 

" What-ho, Willie," cried Big Bob, as he 
espied him for the first time. " What yer so 
quiet about ? " 

Willie gave an imperceptible shudder as 
the bully shouldered his way through the 
intervening groups. " 'Ere, boys, Little 
Willie's goin' to give us a cormic song ! " 

A roar of applause greeted this announce- 
ment, and several .of Willie's particular 
tormentors closed up around him. 




11 1 carnH; sing to-night," protested the 
victim, feebly. 

" More yer can any other time ! " 

Another round of applause followed this 

lf Aiii*t yer going to offer us a tip at yer 
mug?" Rig Bob said, as he caught up the 
tankard from the floor. 

u In course, if yer ain't wet enough 
already," answered Willie. 

" Mates/' said the offended one, pointing 
dramatically at the youth on the bucket - 
"Mates, the nipper's 'in ted as 'ow I'm 
squiffy ! Then take yer bloomin' tipple ; 
Oi'll 'ave none of it ! " and he poured the 
whole contents of the pot over the luckless 
young soldier. 

Willie rose with an angry flush, but some- 
one from behind caught him by the ankle 
and sent him rolling to the floor. 

the first time that Willie had " gone through 
the mill/' hut he was getting rather sick of 
the process, and resolved to show fight. 

"Yer bloomin' set of bullies V he blurted 
out. But just then a leg from the encircling 
crowd neatly tripped up our young gallant 
and deposited him on the floor again. Once 
more he struggled to his feet, but as he 
looked round the circle of grinning faces, 
all many inches above him, and as he 
thought of his own dear little Nellie "walk- 
ing out " with the fellow who was making 
his fife unbearable^ he felt a lump rise in his 
throat ; his fists unclenched, and in another 
second he had sunk down on the upturned 
bucket, sobbing as if his heart would break, 
and his hot tears mingled with the beer that 
was trickling from his hain 

"Law lumnie, he's acshally wetpM I" 

A roar of derision and disgust rose from 


"So-o-o, yer wants to fight, does yer?" 
cried Big Bob, as he jerked the lad to his 
feet again. " What pnmv thet, Sainlow!" 
and he administered a terrific box on the ear 
to the half-dazed Willie. It was by no means 

the astonished soldiers. Then every man 
solemnly fetched his drink, and poured it 
over the prostrate lad. "'Wccpin' Willie/ 
take thet t ".was the^ formula, as each man 
upset the contents of his can. 




At that moment the door opened, and 
those who stood nearest it drew themselves 
up to 4i attention *' as Captain Trevor, who 
had heard the noise as he was passing by, 
strode into the room, 

"What's this?" he said, addressing the 
crestfallen gang of tormentors. "Off you 
all go to your barrack-rooms at once, and 
don't let this ever happen again in A Com- 
pany* 1 * 

They wure only too glad to get off so 
easily, and in less than a minute Captain 
Trevor and Private Fox were alone. 

'•What does this mean, Fox? Why, 
surely, man, you've not been crying ! " 

" Please, sir, I couldn't 'elp it, I did feel 
so wretched like." 

"You've left school now, remember that 
we don't have men who cry in the army. 
Get back to your room at once, and 
don't let me ever see you in this state 
again. I am disappointed in you, Fox." 

Poor Willie, sick at heart and sore 
m limb, crept back to his barrack- 
room, where he was greeted with 
jeers and hoots, but, mindful of 
Captain Trevor's warning, his com- 
rades abstained from stronger 
measures that night. 

The months that followed made 
his life a perfect pandemonium. All 
his room-mates taxed their ingenuity 
to the utmost in order to devise new 
tortures and humiliations for 
"Weepin' Willie. 1 ' 

His bed was always soaking wet, 
his kit and accoutrements hidden 
away. They painted his buttons, 
they whitewashed his boots, they 
borrowed his blankets. When a 
1 man could not sleep, he whiled 
away the hours of the night by 
throwing the heaviest missiles he 
could lay his hands on at the luck- 
tes youth- On wet afternoons 
Willie was %i crucified '* for the public 
amusement, a process which con- 
sisted in tying up the patient's wrists 
just above the door, so that when- 
ever it was opened he got a severe 
jerking. And yet through it all he 
never showed fight and never com- 
plained, but bore blows and jibes 
alike with stolid indifference. 
Although Captain Trevor never 
alluded to that awful night, Willie 
instinctively felt that his hero 
despised him, and that hurt him 
more than all the ill-usage of 

his room-mates. Nellie he had not seen 
►since, but she had scribbled him aline in 

"Mr. 'Wkepin' Wilur,' You're a dis- 
grace to the army. I hope never to see you 
again till you've got given up crying,— Nellie 
Lin don." 

This masterpiece of sarcasm Willie kept in 
the lining of his tunic, and it made him mad 
every time he thought of it. And so the 
weary weeks passed by until the trooping 
season came, and then, much to the delight 
of all the men, A Company was ordered out 
to the North-West frontier to join the first 
battalion as a draft to make good the ravages 
caused by sickness and the enemy, As the 
train si< mird out of the slat ion, Willie saw 
Nelly Lindon waving her handkerchief to 
Big Bob, and as his carriage moved slowly 
past, she applied a comer to her eyes as if 
wiping away an imaginary tear, but there 
was a mischievous smile on her lips. 

Original from 




" Them's the beggars we've got to smash ; 
look at 'em a-wasting of their ammunition, 
as if hevery round on it wasn't stolen from 
the Govermint." 

"That'll make some of the boys perspirite, 
I'm thinking," Sergeant Thomson replied, as 
his eyes followed the direction of Big Bob's 

Half a mile or so from where the company 
was halted to refresh itself after its tedious 
semi-circular march in the early dawn, a long 
sloping hill, covered with stunted growth and 
unsteady boulders, rose gradually up to the 
sky-line ; some little way below the summit, 
a ledge of rock ran parallel with the top, and 
it was at this ledge that Captain Trevor 
directed his field-glasses. 

" I'll send the men up to that ledge in 
skirmishing order," he said to one of his 
lieutenants. " They'll be protected from the 
enemy's fire once they get there, then we 
can re-form and do the rest with a rush ; I 
don't suppose it's more than a hundred and 
fifty yards to the summit from there. What 
do you think, Mason ? " 

" I shouldn't think so ; anyway I hope 
not, as we've got to do it, and the general 
will be coming along on the far side in 
another couple of hours. By Jove, Trevor, 
we'd better hurry up," he added, as he looked 
at his watch. " We must clear those fellows 
off the summit by six o'clock, and it's nearly 
half-past four now. How many of them are 
there, do you think ? " 

" Only a couple of hundred, I suppose, 
but if we don't clear them out of that they 
could play the very devil with the brigade ; 
it's a sheer drop of 200ft. into the road from 
where they are, and they'd be rolling those 
great boulders on to the fellows' heads. 
Company, fall in. Tention ! You will ad- 
vance in skirmishing order up to that ledge 
of rock. Section commanders to keep their 
men well in hand and to make the best use 
of every bit of cover. Now, remember, no 
target-shooting at those niggers on the sky- 
line ! What I want you to do is to get to 
that ledge as quickly and with as little loss 
as possible. The men will widen out as far 
as they can, so as to offer no mark for 
the enemy's sharp-shooters. Section com- 
manders, tell off your men ! " 

Five minutes later the company was 
straggling along over the broken ground in 
one long line, with wide gaps between the 
men, who were left more or less each to take 
care of himself and choose his own way. 

" Blow me if we ain't a-going to 'ave a 

treat now ! " Big Bob shouted to Little Willie, 
who was staggering along under the weight of 
his rifle half-a-dozen yards to Bob's left, as a 
bullet went whistling in between them. As 
the big man spoke his foot caught in a trail- 
ing creeper, and he measured his length on 
the ground, his rifle going off as he fell. 

Immediately a young recruit on the right, 
hearing the report, and longing to have a 
shot at the enemy, brought his rifle up to the 
" ready,' took careful aim, and fired. Noth- 
ing is so contagious as contagion. In five 
minutes the whole line were taking pot-shots 
at the black figures on the sky-line. In vain 
did the captain and his two lieutenants curse 
and threaten the men nearest them ; in vain 
did the non-commissioned officers urge their 
men forward — it was impossible to do any- 
thing. The men were all over the place, 
some of them a hundred or more yards 
apart, some lying down behind boulders 
taking aim, others running forward a few- 
paces, and then discharging their rifles from 
the cover afforded by bushes or rocks. As 
they gradually worked their way upwards, 
the tribesmen's good shooting began to take 
effect. First one man dropped, then another ; 
then one of the lieutenants threw up his 
hands and fell forward, shot through the 
heart in the act of kicking a man who was 
having a little private nigger - shooting 
competition with his corporal. As the men 
saw their comrades fall they got more and 
more chary of exposing their own persons, 
preferring to lie low arid waste ammunition 
on the sky-line. 

Pitter-patter went the bullets on the stone- 
strewn hill-side, and the soldiers crawled a 
little closer up to their sheltering rocks and 
bent their heads down a few inches lower. 
There was not a man there whom you could 
have called a coward with impunity. Had 
they been all together— in line or column — 
they would have gone up the hill like a herd 
of buffaloes, with wild cheers and gleaming 
bayonets, and never given a thought to the 
dead and wounded. But, scattered as they 
were over the whole hill-side, with only now 
and then a comrade's white sun-helmet 
coming in sight, it was too much to expect 
of any man with a loaded magazine and 
clear view of the enemy that he should go 
on up, alone for all he knew, with the bullets 
singing around him. 

In vain had Captain Trevor called the men 
nearest him a pack of white-livered curs ; in 
vain had he referred to their parents and 
antecedents in terms that would have shocked 
and astonishdtlirhy f imminently respectable 




aunt, the Dowager-Countess of Trevordine. 
At last he gave it up in despair, " Lie there, 
you infernal idiots, and blaze your ammuni- 
tion away. Ill be cursed if / stand and 
score for you ! n And, fuming with impotent 
rage, he returned hi a sword to its scabbard 
with a vicious click, placed his hands in his 
pockets, and continued the ascent alone. 

"Just as if 'e was goin' on a Halp- 
climbin' hexpedition," as one of the men 

"Ell git a bloomin' 'ole knocked in his 
caroise afore Vs gone fur," Big Bob yelled 
to the man nearest him, as he refilled his 

me your hand I You're the only man fit to 
be a soldier in the whole company." 

Willie blushed up to his ears with delight. 
At last he had retrieved himself in his hero's 
estimation. Almost reverently, he took the 
captain's outstretched palm, 

"Thank ye s sir/' he said. u Oi've been 
wishin' for this ever since ye carried my rifle 
that day ! " 

" That's all right, my man. Tret's have a 
look at your rifle." He looked down the 
polished barrel "You don't mean to tell 
me you haven't fired a shot yet ? ?1 

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, thin I did mis- 


magazine and settled his elbows preparatory 
to casting more cartridges. 

How Captain Trevor ever reached the 
sheltering ridge which was to have been 
the rendezvous remains a mystery \ but 
Each it he did without a scratch. One 
man alone was there to welcome him : 
^Veepin* Willie" furtively drew his sleeve 
across his mouth to try and disguise the 
bet that he was munching a commissariat 
biscuit, and stood at attention as his officer 
came up. It was Willie's first experience of 
wive semce, and he did not know if it was 
etiquette to be seen breakfasting while under 

"That you, Fox? D it, man, give 

understand yen I thought as 'ow I adn't 
'eard aright when I saw all the other blokes 
-I mean fellers, sir — a-blazin' away. But 
as I ain't much of a shot I thought I'd be on 
the safe sokle\ and I certingly did think as 
'ow you'd told us not to shoot/' 

" I'll get you to repeat that in front of the 
whole company, Fox, if 1 can ever get them 
out of this cursed mess; it would be a lesson 
to them." 

Five minutes passed, and still not another 
man had reached the rendezvous. Away 
down beneath them, some two, some three, 
and some four hundred yards away, the little 
white helmets could be seen from time to 
time as the skirmisher! altered their positions. 





" Pm going to see what the enemy are up 
to," Captain Trevor said, as he clambered up 
the seven-foot ledge of rock that was shelter- 
ing the two men. " Perhaps those beggars 
down there will see me then and come up ! n 

" WeepiiV Willie " followed in the wake of 
his officer, and there the two stood in full 
view of their own men, and a splendid 
mark for the enemy. Once Willie almost 
ducked as a bullet " ventilated " his helmet, 
and the next moment Captain Trevor stag- 
gered, and would have fallen had not the 
private caught him in his arms. 

Carefully 3 and exerting all his strength, 
for Trevor was a big man, Willie lifted him 
over his shoulder, and began slowly to 
descend from the ridge ; but, as he gave a 
last look round, he saw the tribesmen on 
the summit suddenly leap to their feet, and, 
brandishing their murderous knives, begin 
to rush down the incline. In an instant t 
Willie was up on the ledge again, and with 
the full force of his lungs and his lungs 
were the only big thing about him — he 

shouted to his comrades below : " Run, 
yer blazing beggars, run! They're on 
yer ! " And then, with all the speed 
his feeble legs would allow, he clam- 
bered off the ridge and began to 
stagger down the hill, the captain's long 
legs trailing on the ground behind, 
scraping against the loose stones and 
starting them rolling. On the little man 
stumbled, his knees giving under his 
heavy burden, his breath coming in 
short sobs, and his heart beating like 
a steam-hammer. What if he. failed 
to save his hero ! 

Suddenly he became aware of a big 
man in " khaki " towering above him. 
" Here, lad, give 5 im to me ! " and 
a pair of strong arms lifted the captain 
easily, as Willie recognised Big 
Hob's voice. A cheer went up 
from below as Lieutenant Mason 
and a dozen men with gleaming 
bayonets came dashing up the 
slope. The tribesmen, who were 
just coming over the ridge above, 
saw the little band, saw the fierce, 
determined look on their faces, 
the blood - for - blood battle -lust 
in their eyes, " Iliah Allah," 
shouted the chief, "these are no 
coward - women after all ! " and 
discharging his rifle haphazard, 
scrambled down the ledge the 
way he had come. In less time 
than it takes to tell, the dusky 
were laboriously following their 
the summit again, closely pur- 
sued by the Englishmen, while all along 
the slope white helmets and bright steel 
flashed in the rising sunlight, as one after 
another the men leaped to their feet and 
rushed upwards. In five minutes the 
struggle was over, and just as the dusty, blood- 
stained men were opening their haversacks 
to snatch a hurried breakfast, a troop of the 
Guides cavalry, the advance guard of the 
brigade, came clattering along the mountain 
road two hundred feet beneath them. 

It was a proud day for A Company when 
all the Fingal Valley Brigade were paraded in 
hollow square to see private Fox receive the 
Victoria Cross, and no man cheered louder 
than Big Bob. 

"'Weepin' Willie' yer is, and * Weepin' 
Willie J yer '11 remain," he afterwards said to 
the hero of the day, as all hfe comrades 
gathered round to shake his hand. u I'd 
weep the t q1c bloomin day if I thought it'd 


chief to 



niake me behave as well as yerdid under fire, 
*ang me tight if I wouldn't ! " 

"Aye! And ifyer hasks my opination, \ 
was weepin' cos 'is messmates was such a 
bloomiir lot of coward, low-'earted skunks ! 
And so we are- compared with 1m, least- 
wise — ain't we, mateys?" 

"Yes, yes- Rayther ! " was shouted on 
ail sides. 

Then someone got on a commissariat 

The day after the 1st Battalion of Her 
Majesty's 210th Line late of the Fingal 
Valley Field Force was landed at Plymouth, 
Nellie Linden received a registered envelope 
which contained many things. One was a 
dirty scrap of paper with a few words in 
pencil on it, that had been carried all 
through a campaign concealed in the lining 
of a private's tunic. Then there was a 
plain gun - metal Maltese cross with the 

If ..:Uf 



biscuit-box : a Three cheers for ' Weepin' 
Willie;' our little nipper, the bravest man 
in all the bloomiir brigade ! ,] And the 
galvanized iron roof fairly rattled an accom- 
paniment to the lusty lungs of A Company. 

words " For Valour " graven thereon ; and, 
lastly T 'a line or two from Big Bob : * Take 
my advice, Nell, 1 * he wrote, t( and have the 

And Nell did. 

Vd. xtIL— 9 

by Google 

Original from 

Animal Friendship. 

Bv Albert H, Broadwell. 

ANY of the instances of animal 
sagacity with which we have 
been familiar from our youth 
have had but slender founda- 
tion of fact, upon which is 
erected a terribly airy super- 
structure of fiction. In Mr* Shepherd's 
"Animal Actualities/ 1 and in the present 
article, however, the anecdotes about our 
lower friends are authentic vouched for, in 
tact, by their various 
owners — while the 
photographs from life 
arc indisputable evi- 
dence of their truth. 

The dog^ as is to 
be expected, from his 
occupying a position 
which places him 
under constant obser- 
vation, forms the sub- 
ject of more stories 
than any other animal ; 
yet it is not known 
how far his intelli- 
gence extends. Some 
enthusiasts aver that 
instances are on record where a member of 
the canine race has committed suicide 
through grief j but this certninly requires 
verification, Let us listen to Mr. G. C 
Grove, however, who tells the story of "The 
Inseparables-" He says:— 

(t I cannot refrain from telling the follow- 
ing story, which is vouched for by my most 
intimate friend. On paying a visit to his 


uncle, who is a farmer in Scotland, he 
noticed a handsome young collie and a 
goose with a broken wing, constantly about 
together; indeed, they were well-nigh in- 
separable, On inquiry he elicited the fact 
that, when a puppy, the dog had flown at a 
gosling and had broken its wing ; ever since, 
it was noticed that the dog was not only 
cognizant of the mischief he had done, but 
became so repentant, that from that time 

forward he had taken 
that one bird under 
his special protection, 
though his feeling to- 
wards geese in general 
remained unchanged ; 
and now, wherever the 
dog goes, there follows 
the goose, and vice 
versa. It is a pretty 
instance of contrition, 
and may be recom- 
mended as a useful 

One would have 
thought from stories 
that have come from 
Australia that dogs and kangaroos were invet- 
erate enemies. In our illustration Ave seem, 
however, to have a direct refutation of such an 
erroneous belief. We have here five dogs and 
a kangaroo, the Australian placidly munching 
some carrot-heads. There has been no posing 
about this picture: the subjects settled them- 
selves together in the most natural fashion. 
The dog has not only proved himself to 

From a Photo, fcpl 




be man's best friend, but he seems to show a 
great deal of affection for other animals with 
which he may happen to come in contact cither 
as occasional friends or more often as constant 
companions. We have here T for instance, a 
number of photos, showing the marvellous 
way in which animals fraternize as though 
they belonged to one family. Professor 

Fr*m a. I*hata. Itf] 


Lorenzo, of 5, Crowndale Road, NAV. 3 has a 
most extraordinary collection of animals of 
all kinds. It includes dogs, cats, tame rabbits 
and wild rabbits, kangaroos, bantams, 
pigeons, cockatoos and parrots, and other 
pets. Among these we find a friendship 
which is of many years' standing. A 
spaniel and bantam 
are not often seen 
together, yet we 
have them here in 
thorough good-fel- 
lowship. The dog is 
a lovable creature, 
and the bantam 
knows it. 

That very ban- 
tam, by the way, is 
the most cheeky 
fellow in creation. 
He does not be- 
lieve in roosting in 
orthodox fashion ; 
but chooses, in pre- 
ference, some so ft j velvety surface where- 
upon he can settle at ease and remain as 
long as he pleases. As shown in the next 
picture, a cat is another friend of his. Puss 
is almost crushed hy the weight of this most 
unblushing intrude yet she does not move, 
l^st she should interfere with his comfort. 

Cats and rabbits next come under notice. 
It may be interesting to quote a pretty story 
told by Miss Hamond, of Cheltenham, She 
says : " The following incident occurred under 
my own eyes during my residence in Spain. 
The province of Jaen, in sunny Andalusia, 
is rich in minerals, and the quaint old 
country town of Linares may be called the 
centre of the lead-min- 
ing district, where a 
goodly number of 
Englishmen have settled 
down with their wives 
and families and house- 
hold gods, to make the 
best of life under con- 
ditions very different 
from those to which 
they were born, 

"The children -as 
children do all the world 
over — used to keep a 
good many pets of 
different kinds, and in 
one household which 
I often visited — that of 
Mr Romer, manager to 
one of the mining com- 
panies their name was legion. One after- 
noon when I came in to tea there was a 
great commotion in the yard ; obviously 
something important had happened. I knew 
at once that it must be a new kind of pet 
which somebody had given them. 

" * One of the miners has brought us some 

[Ar J-, Jaiiwftoii. 

Ftom a Photo, by] 


[A, J, Johntom. 

infant rabbits,' said Conchita, the second 
girl, hardly able to speak from ill-suppressed 
excitement. 'They are such babies, they 
can't feed themselves ; do advise us. They 
will die if they are not fed soon. 5 A piece 
of rag dippiknB'JMkT'^Jhied the only way 
CutoiUfctai^^^ took tg it 



From a Photo, by] 


Id* J+ Jvknmn- 

at once. Indeed, they soon began to nibble 
at the milk in the saucer. This problem 
was evidently solved, but the weather was 
very cold, and they had doubtless been accus- 
tomed to a warm fur cloak about them. So 
Conchita said, ( Might she take them to bed 
with her?' 

" f Take them in to Molly, and see if he 
will adopt them/ 1 suggested, not intending 
to be taken at my word ; but Conchita 
thought it an excellent idea, and acted upon 
it at once. We all followed her. (I must 
explain here that Molly was an immense 
tom-cat, fat and amiable ; he lived in the 
schoolroom in a wadded basket, which just 
fitted him comfortably,) ( He will eat them 
up at once, of course/ remarked one of 
the bystanders, ' and perhaps it is just as 
well that he should.' But he didn't. That 
excellent cat allowed the mites to be 
stuffed into his lap ; they at once nestled 
down and Molly went off to sleep again. 
Some of us looked in later in the evening to 
see what had happened, That excellent cat 
was sitting up washing the rabbits ! It 
was the funniest thing in the world : he 
evidently remembered his own nursery days, 
and was doing his duty according to his 
lights by his strange charges. When he 
came to the long ears he 
paused, evidently mildly sur- 
prised at the innovation, but 
those rabbits had a thorough 
licking before they finally re- 
tired to rest This sort of 
thing went on for a fortnight 
the rabbits feeding out of 
Molly's saucer of bread and 
milk with him regularly, though 
it soon had to be changed for 
a soup-plate, and a bigger bed 
had tQ be provided. At the 

end of the fortnight the 
rabbits began to take so 
much exercise that it was 
difficult to keep them in one 
room, and there were so 
many ferocious cats in the 
neighbourhood that Con- 
chita decided that the rab- 
bits must be provided with 
a hutch of their own, and 
so the pretty little comedy 
came to an end. It never 
seemed to have occurred to 
the amiable Molly that they 
were good to eat. We used 
to bring friends scoffers 
and unbelievers, who went 
out converted — to that schoolroom, and if 
Molly, the conscientious foster-father, were 
sleepy and indisposed to show off, we used 
to put a little butter on the infants' backs. 
This never failed to wake him up and induce 
him to perform their toilet with much 

One of our Australian friends, who prefers 
his name not to be published, but whose 
statements we have very good reasons to 
believe to be absolutely true, sends us the 
extraordinary photo, given below, "Away 
out in New Zealand/ 1 our kindly corre- 
spondent was able to take this curious pic- 
ture. He tells the following story in con- 
nection with it : " Everyone knows how 
deficient in sense of maternal responsibility 
are mother ducks, and some ducklings of 
mine, appearing neglected, were put into a 
small box, with flannel, to add to their 
comfort. As one of our cats happened to 
be present, and inspected them with some 
interest, my wife said to her, ( Here are 
some kittens for you, Minna/ Without 
more ado Minna jumped into the box, and 
there and then adopted them as hei very 
own. When they fell out of the box, she 
very tenderly picked them up in her mouth 
and replaced them. When they pecked at 




her after the manner of their kind, she very 
gently reproached them with her paw, and 
seemed to try and tell them in her own 
language that she had never seen well- 
behaved kittens behave in that way before. 
Altogether they became a very happy family/' 
Our correspon- 
dent says noth- 
ing of their 
ultimate fate, but 
we would imag- 
ine that when 
the ducklings 
first took to the 
water, the foster- 
mothers grief 
must have been 
extremely touch- 
ing. "On another 
occasion, how- 
ever/' adds the 
owner of the 
ducklings, "I 
was standing, 
one evening, 
watching my 
Aylesburys wad- 
dling home to 
supper and bed 
after i a happy 
day at the sea- 
side, 1 when I 
noticed a little 
black-and-white duckling evidently not theirs, 
which to my surprise was with them. It 
stopped and looked at me as the others 
passecL, and seemed to ask, 'What are 
you going to do with me?' I picked it 
up and called the old cat. Putting the 
duckling in a box, 1 said, ' There is another 
kitten for you, Minna,* Without a moment's 
hesitation she once more 
undertook her strange 
maternal duty, and took 
charge of the mite for some 
days, till she thought the 
little one old enough to face 
a hard and cruel world by 
kself- The duckling, which 
was called Kitty after its 
foster-mother, used to follow 
her about the garden and up 
and down the veranda stairs. 
At last, however, some boys 

for there are cruel and 
thoughtless boys even in 
New Zealand— killed it with 
a stone/' 

Qf foster-mothers we have 

From a CvwriQlU Stem PknU>. 

indeed some extraordinary instances. They 
show the truthful confidence with which little 
suckling animals will approach, and regard 
as their mother, beasts of quite a different 
species. We have here two instances of suck- 
ling pigs. In the one case we have an amusing 

picture, showing 
how the little 
porker was 
caught in the act, 
not only by the 
camera, but by 
the jolly farmer 
in the back- 
ground. Stealing 
milk from a cow, 
whose yield in 
consequence fell 
noticeably short, 
was an injudic- 
ious thing to do, 
but it would not 
have mattered 
much had piggie 
not been caught. 
The second 
photo,, which 
exemplifies a 
peculiar coinci- 
dence, was sent 
in by Mr. J. A. 
Hern, of Wayne; 
Nebraska, U.S.A. 
It is a striking confirmation of the preceding 
incident, with the difference that, instead of 
one thief only, we have thrue, and already 
well satisfied they look. 

Another peculiar pair hail from the States. 
They live in Walsenburg, Colorado, the 
photo, being sent in by Mr. Thomas Bunker, 
of that town* The mother ass in this case is 


why jeh^ey ^LY'fWve-w'Wi: 

4 6 


Fron\ a Phctti, by Thaliian Bunker, Wat* nburu, Cotanuto. 

a most interesting animal. Her ordinary 
occupation is that of wood-carrier, as may be 
gathered from the load on her patient hack ; 
hut besides having to suckle her own offspring, 
standing so gloomy, sad-eyed, and reproachful 
on the right, she also has to nurse the 
exuberant little lamb seen ifi the very act of 
robbing the little donkey foal of its natural 
right. The three animals belong to an old 
Mexican, and the Iamb was reared entirely 
on the milk of the mother am. 

The pretty terrier shown in the next illus- 
tration was once the happy mother of an 
even happier family. Unfortunately, the 
puppies all died soon after birth, leaving the 
mother broken-hearted. For a long while 
the dog was inconsolable. It refused its 
food, moped, and grew thin* One day, how- 
ever, a tiny, motherless kitten was given to 
it The gift turned out to be the dog's 

salvation ; it took 
the greatest care of 
the little creature, 
and woe betide 
the unfortunate 
stranger who ven- 
tured too near her 
precious charge, 
These pets belong 
to Miss J, Dresser, 
of Bexley Heath, 
Kent, and we are 
indebted to her 
kindness for this 
interesting photo- 

Mr. Edward T. 
Williams, of Ted- 
wort h Square, 
Chelsea, owns a 
dove and a dog. 
fresh in this item of 
that dog will carry 

There is nothing very 

news ; but wait a moment 

the dove on his head for more than a quarter 

of a mile ! They are the staunchest of friends, 

and as soon 

as the door of 

the cage is 

opened, out 

hurries the 

dove. It 

searches for 

the dog, if the 

latter should 

not already 

happen to be 

waiting for his 

rider in the immediate neighbour hood, and the 

dog seems to consider it as an absolute duty to 

carry his friend about in this comical fashion. 
Amongst other quaint and extraordinary 
friendships between 
animals of diverse species* 
one of the most interest- 
so frequently 
between cats 



fhmi a Ftofo, fcpj 


ing is 

struck up 

and horses. Tussle loves 
to make a fragrant, hay- 
scented stable her daily 
lounge and to nestle 
against the warm coat of 
the horse, who often takes 
his nights repose lying in 
his stall with the favoured 
Grimalkin snugly sleeping 
between his iron - shod 
hoofs, It was in Brook 
Mi v , \ . the liinnu] 

TV "3F WeFffi»*M " snapped" 



amidst the eager and 
excited observations of 
the many bystanders, 
who quickly thronged 
to see the fun. 

The ladies who 
have risen to such an 
elevated position in 
life are mother and 
daughter. The sedate 
matron is fully alive 
to the importance of 
the occasion, and has 
adopted an easy, grace- 
ful pose; while the 
youngster, frisky and 
somewhat shy, was with 
difficulty persuaded to 
settle comfortably 
down. Mother cat is 
an animal of very self- 
rontiiincd and amiable 
disposition. She has 
contracted a fast friend- 
ship with two white 
rabbits belonging to 
the coachman's tittle boy. They live in a 
hutch in the stables, and are often allowed a 
little liberty for a frolic with puss, who 
chases them in and out of an empty stall. 

From Covington, U.S.A., comes another 
remarkable instance, Mr. E. E. Cone, of 
that town, has a hen that displays a remark- 
ably perverted maternal instinct One of 
the neighbours has a cat with four small 
Lit tens. The cat would be faithful to her 
offspring were she not prevented by the 
following circumstance. This particular hen 
had been sitting for some time when 
she suddenly conceived the idea that 
the care of the kittens was more to her 
I [king. She, therefore, promptly drove the 

from a Photo, b§] 


[J, Mark*. 

Frvma Pfttfo. bfl 


mother cat away and took possession of the 
kits. No hen-mother ever watched over her 
brood with greater care than has this one over 
her mewing, squirming litter of kittens. The 
kittens offer no objection, and, with the ex- 
ception of the old cat, who looks on at a safe 
distance) all is serene in this anomalous 
family. In our photograph the hen is shown 
endeavouring to cover the four kittens with 
her wings, but it does not seem a very easy 

Extraordinary as this instance may seem, 
we have in a way a parallel to it. We see a 
cat taking under her charge some newly-born 
chicks in much the same way as the mother- 
hen did with the kittens. Mr. C. K. Eaton, 
of Melbourne House, 
Montpelier, Bristol, very 
kindly sends us the photo- 

It appears that, through 
some inexplicable reason 
of her own, the mother of 
the chicks deserted them 
almost immediately after 
being hatched, and con- 
sequently, there being no 
other means of rearing 
them, they were for some 
time kept in the kitchen, 
where, after a few days, 
the) became fast friends 
r .^t^Jg^^ho proved 3 

4 8 


.splendid substitute for the mother 
hen. She seldom left them, and 
when they were able to get about 
shej for a long time, followed them 
about the garden. The sight, 
needless to add, was an extremely 
pathetic one. 

Miss Powell* of the Grove, 
Bishopton, Ripon, very kindly 
sends us the annexed amusing 
little photo, of a guinea-pig with 
a tame rat on its back. Now, who 
would ever have thought of such 
a peculiar freak of friendship? The 
pig is one of a pair, which Miss 
Powell has trained in harness. 
Brutus drags fair Venus about the 
room in a miniature coach. They 
are now being taught to sit in 
loving companionship at a tea- 
table The rat is a tame one, 
and is an adept at various clever 


feats, in the imitation of 
which the guinea-pigs are 

And now for the strangest 
instance in our collection. 
This astonishing photograph 
of a collie suckling a brood 
of young foxes was taken 
by Mr. Brown at a farm 
near Lanark. The little 
rascals were found in a den 
not a hundred miles from 
the farm. The farmer, with 
due solicitude, secured the 
little family, and took it to 
h's own fire-side. But what 


Pmm a Photo, bv W< Per*™, iridhmr. 

could a respectable farmer do with a brood 
of young foxes? Now, it happened that 
only a day or two before this remarkable 
find, a fine collie owned by the farmer 
had become the happy mother of a family 
of her own. The little collies were 
speedily disposed of, and the young brood 
of foxes given to the mother and left 
to her kind solicitude. Wonderful to 
relate, the dog took very kindly to them, 
and actually suckled them for five or six 

hrvw a t^vtu. fr#] 


[A, lirtyvn ft: Co„ kiwii*. 

by Google 

Original from 

Miss Cayley's Adventures. 

By Grant Allen. 

DID not sleep that night. 
Next morning, I rose very 
early from a restless bed with 
a dry, hot mouth and a general 
feeling that the solid earth had 
failed beneath me. 
Still no news from Harold ! It was cruel, 
I thought. My faith almost flagged. He 
was a* man and should be brave How could 
he run away and hide himself at such a 
time? Even if I set my own anxiety aside, 
just think to what serious misapprehension ft 
laid him open ! ;* 

I sent out for the morning papers. They 
were full of Harold. Rumours, rumoi/rs, 
rumours ! Mr. Tillington had deliberately 
chosen to put himself in the wrong by disap- 
pearing mysteriously at the last moment. 
He had only himself to blame if the worst 
interpretation were put upon his action. 
But the police were on his track ; Scotland 
Yard had " a clue " : it was confidently ex- 
pected an arrest would be made before 
evening at latest. As to details, authorities 
differed. The officials of the Great Western 
Railway at Paddington were convinced that 
Mr. Tillington had started, alone and undis-„ 
guised, by the night express for Exeter. The 
South-Eastern inspectors at Charing Cross, 
on the other hand, were equally certain that 
he had slipped away with a false beard, in 
company with " his accomplice," Higginson, 
by the 8.15 p.m. to Paris. Everybody took 
it for granted, however, that he had left 

Conjecture played with various ultimate 
destinations — Spain, Morocco, Sicily, the 
Argentine. In Italy, said the Chronicle, he 
might lurk for a while — he spoke Italian 
fluently, and could manage to put up at tiny 
osterie in out-of-the-way places seldom visited 
by Englishmen. He might try Albania, 
said the Morning Post, airing its exclusive 
" society " information : he had often hunted 
there, and might in turn be hunted. He 
would probably attempt to slink away to 
some remote spot in the Carpathians or the 
Balkans, said the Daily News, quite proud 
of its geography. Still, wherever he went, 
leaden-footed justice in this age, said the 
Times, must surely overtake him. The day 

Vol. *rii.-7. 

of universal extradition had dawned ; we 
had no more Alsatias : even the Argentine 
itself gives up its rogues at last; not an 
asylum for crime remains in Europe, not a 
refuge in Asia, Africa, America, Australia, 
or the Pacific Islands. 

I, noted with a shudder of horror that 
all ^the papers alike took his guilt as certain. 
In spite of a few decent pretences at not pre- 
jitdging an untried cause, they treated him 
already as the detected criminal, the fugitive 
from justice. I *sat in my little sitting-room at 
the hotel in Jermyn Street, a limp rag, looking 
idly out of the window with swimming eyes, 
and waiting for Lady Georgina. It was 
early, too early, but — oh, why didn't she 
come ! Unless somebody soon sympathized 
with me, my heart would break under this 
load of loneliness ! 

Presently, as I looked out on the sloppy 
morning street, I was vaguely aware 
through the mist that floated before my 
dry eyes (for tears were denied me) of a 
very grand carriage driving up to the door- 
way — the porch with the four wooden 
Ionic pillars. I took no heed of it. I was 
too heart-sick for observation. My life was 
wrecked, and Harold's with it. Yet, dimly 
through the mist, I became conscious after a 
while that the carriage was that of an Indian 
prince ; I could see the black faces, the white 
turbans, the gold brocades of the attendants 
in the dickey. Then it came home to me 
with a pang that this was the Maharajah. 

It was kindly meant ; yet after all that had 
been insinuated in court the day before, I 
was by no means over-pleased that his dusky 
Highness should come to call upon me. 
Walls have eyes and ears. Reporters were 
hanging about all over London, eager to 
distinguish themselves by successful eaves- 
dropping. They would note, with brisk 
innuendoes after their kind, how " the 
Maharajah of Moozuflernuggar called early 
in the day on Miss Lois Cayley, with whom 
he remained for at least half an hour in close 
consultation." I had half a mind to send 
down a message that I could not see him. 
My face still burned with the undeserved 
shame of the cross-eyed Q.C.'s unspeakable 




Before I could make my mind up, however, 
I saw to my surprise that the Maharajah did 
not propose to come in himself. He leaned 
back" in his place with his lordly Eastern air, 
and waited, looking down on the gapers in 
the street, while one of the two gorgeous 
attendants in the dickey descended obsequi- 
ously to receive his orders. The man was 
dressed as usual in rich Oriental stuffs, and 
wore his full white turban swathed in folds 
round his head, I could not see his features. 
He bent forward respectfully with Oriental 
suppleness to take his HighnesVs orders. 
Then, receiving a card and bowing low, he 
entered the porch with the wooden Ionic 
pillars, and disappeared within, while the 
Maharajah folded his hands and seemed to 
resign himself to a temporary Nirvana, 

A minute later, a knock sounded on my 
door. "Come in ! TT I said, faintly ; and the 
messenger entered. 

him. Even at that crucial moment of doubt 
and fear, I could not help noticing how 
admirably he made up as a handsome 
young Rajput. Three years earlier, at 
Schlangenbad, I remembered he had struck 
me as strangely Oriental-looking : he had 
the features of a high-born Indian gentle- 
man, without the complexion. His large, 
poetical eyes, his regular, oval face, his 
even teeth, his mouth and moustache, 
all vaguely recalled the highest type of 
the Eastern temperament. Now, he had 
blackened his face and hands with some 
permanent stain - Indian ink, I learned 
later -and the resemblance to a Rajput 
chief was positively startling. In his gold 
brocade and ample white turban, no passer- 
by, I felt sure, would ever have dreamt of 
doubting him. 

" Then you knew me at once ? " he said, 
holding my face between his hands. 


I turned and faced him. The blood 
rushed to my cheek. " Harold ! " I cried, 
darting forward* My joy overcame me. He 
folded me in his arms. I allowed him, un- 
reproved* For the first time he kissed me* 
I did not shrink from it- 
Then I stood away a little and gazed at 

" That's bad, darling ! I flattered myself 1 
had transformed my face into the complete 
Indian.' 1 

'* Love has sharp eyes/ 3 I answered. u It 
can see through brick walls. But the 
disguise is ^perfect No one else would 
detect you.^riginalfrorn 




" Love is blind, I thought." 

"Not where it ought to see. There, it 
pierces everything. I knew you instantly, 
Harold. But all London, I am sure, would 
pass you by, unknown. You are absolute 

" That's well ; for all London is looking for 
me," he answered, bitterly. "The streets 
bristle with detectives. Southminster's 
knaveries have won the day. So I have 
tried this disguise. Otherwise, I should have 
been arrested the moment the jury brought 
in their verdict." 

" And why were you not ? " I asked, draw- 
ing back. " Oh, Harold, I trust you ; but 
why did you disappear and make all the 
world believe you admitted yourself guilty ? " 

He opened his arms. " Can't you guess ? " 
he cried, holding them out to me. 

I nestled in them once more; but I 
answered through my tears — I had found 
tears now — " No, Harold ; it baffles me." 

" You remember what you promised me ? " 
he murmured, leaning over me and clasping 
me. "If ever I were poor, friendless, hunted 
— you would marry me. Now the opportunity 
has come when we can both prove ourselves. 
To-day, except you and dear Georgey, I 
haven't a friend in the world. Everyone else 
has turned against me. Southminster holds 
the field. I am a suspected forger; in a 
very few days I shall doubtless be a con- 
victed felon. Unjustly, as you know ; yet 
still — we must face it — a convicted felon. So 
I have come to claim you. I have come to 
ask you now, in this moment of despair, will 
you ke'ep your promise ? " 

I lifted my face to his. He bent over it 
trembling. I whispered the words in his ear. 
" Yes, Harold, I will keep it. I have always 
loved you. And now I will marry you." 

" I knew you would ! " he cried, and 
pressed me to his bosom. 

We sat for some minutes, holding each 
other's hands, and saying nothing ; we 
were too full of thought for words. Then 
suddenly, Harold roused himself. " We must 
make haste, darling," he cried. " We are 
keeping Partab outside, and every minute is 
precious, every minute's delay dangerous. 
We ought to go down at once. Partab's 
carriage is waiting at the door for us." 

" Go down ? " I exclaimed, clinging to 
him. "How? Why? I don't understand. 
What is your programme ? " 

" Ah, I forgot I hadn't explained to you ! 
Listen here, dearest — quick ; I can waste no 
words over it. I said just now I had no 
friends in the world but you and Georgey. 

That's not true, for dear old Partab has 
stuck to me nobly. When all my English 
friends fell away, the Rajput was true to me. 
He arranged all this ; it was his own idea ; 
he foresaw what was coming. He urged me 
yesterday, just before the verdict (when he 
saw my acquaintances beginning to look 
askance), to slip quietly out of court, and 
make my way by unobtrusive roads to his 
house in Curzon Street. There, he darkened 
my face like his, and converted me to 
Hinduism. I don't suppose the disguise 
will serve me for more than a day or two ; 
but it will last long enough for us to get 
safely away to Scotland." 

" Scotland ? " I murmured. " Then you 
mean to try a Scotch marriage ? " 

" It is the only thing possible. We must 
be married to-day, and in England, of course, 
we cannot do it. We would have . to be 
called in church, or else to procure a license, 
either of which would involve disclosure of 
my identity. Besides, even the license would 
keep us waiting about for a day or two. 
In Scotland, on the other hand, we can be 
married at once. Partab's carriage is below, 
to take you to Euston. He is staunch as 
steel, dear fellow. Do you consent to go 
with me ? " . , 

My faculty for promptly making up such 
mind as I possess stood me once more in 
good stead. " Implicitly," I answered 
" Dear Harold, this calamity has its happy 
side — for without it, much as I love you, 
I could never have brought myself to marry 
you ! " 

"One moment," he cried. "Before you 
go, recollect, this step is irrevocable. You 
will marry a man who may be torn from you 
this evening, and from whom fourteen years 
of prison may separate you." 

" I know it," I cried, through my tears. 
" But — I shall be showing my confidence in 
you, my love for you." 

He kissed me once more, fervently. 
" This makes amends for all," he cried. 
" Lois, to have won such a woman as you, I 
would go through it all a thousand times 
over. It was for this, and for this alone, 
that I hid myself last night. I wanted to 
give you the chance of showing me how 
much, how truly you loved me." 

" And after we are married ? " I asked, 

" I shall give myself up at once to the 
police in Edinburgh." 

I clung to him wistfully. My heart half 
urged me to urge him to escape. But I 
knew that Offijimrorig, "Give yourself up, 




then," I said, sobbing. "It is a brave man's 
place. You must stand your trial : and, come 
what will, I will strive to bear it with you." 

"I knew you would," he cried. "I was 
not mistaken in you." 

We embraced again, just once. It was 
little enough after those years of waiting. 

"Now, come!" he cried. "Let us go." 

I drew back. "Not with you, dearest," 
I whispered, "Not in the Maharajah's 
carriage. You must start by yourself. I 
will follow you at once, to Euston, in a 

He saw I was right. It would avoid 
suspicion, and it would prevent more scandal. 
He withdrew without a word. " We meet," 
I said, "at ten, at Euston." 

I did not even wait to wash the tears from 
my eyes. All red as they were, I put on my 
hat and my little brown travelling jacket. I 
don't think I so much as glanced once at the 
glass. The seconds were precious. I saw 
the Maharajah drive away, with Harold in 
the dickey, arms crossed, imperturbable, 
Orientally silent. He looked the very counter- 
part of the Rajput by his side. Then I 
descended the stairs and walked out boldly. 
As I passed through the hall, the servants 
and the visitors stared at me and whispered. 
They spoke with nods and liftings of the 
eyebrows. I was aware that that morning I 
had achieved notoriety. 

At Piccadilly Circus, I . jumped of a 
sudden into a passing hansom. " Euston ! " 
I cried, as I mounted the step. "Drive 
quick ! I have no time to spare." And, as 
the man drove off, I saw, by a convulsive 
dart of someone across the road, that I had 
given the slip to a disappointed reporter. 

At the station I took a first-class ticket 
for Edinburgh. On the platform, the Maha- 
rajah and his attendants were waiting. He 
lifted his hat to me, though otherwise he 
took no overt notice. But I saw his keen 
eyes follow me down the train. Harold, in 
his Oriental dress, pretended not to observe 
me. One or two porters, and a few curious 
travellers, cast inquiring eyes on the Eastern 
prince, and made remarks about him to one 
another. " That's the chap as was up yes- 
terday in the Ashurst will kise ! " said one 
lounger to his neighbour. But nobody 
seemed to look at Harold ; his subordinate 
position secured him from curiosity. The 
Maharajah had always two Eastern servants, 
gorgeously dressed, in attendance ; he had 
been a well-known figure in London society, 
and at Lord's and the Oval, for two or three 

Digitized by dOOQle 

" Bloomin' fine cricketer ! " one porter 
observed to his mate as he passed. 

" Yuss ; not so dusty for a nigger," the 
other man replied. " Fust-rite bowler ; but, 
Lord, he can't 'old a candle to good old 

As for myself, nobody seemed to recognise 
me. I set this fact down to the fortunate 
circumstance that the evening papers had 
published rough wood-cuts which professed 
to be my portrait, and which naturally 
led the public to look out for a brazen-faced, 
raw-boned, hard-featured termagant. 

I took my seat in a ladies' compartment 
by myself. As the train was about to start, 
Harold strolled up as if casually for a 
moment "You think it better so?" he 
queried, without moving his lips or seeming 
to look at me. 

"Decidedly," I answered. "Go back to 
Partab. Don't come near me again till we 
get to Edinburgh. It is dangerous still. 
The police may at any moment hear we have 
started and stop us half-way ; and now that 
we have once committed ourselves to this 
plan, it would be fatal to be interrupted 
before we have got married." 

" You are right," he cried ; " Lois, you are 
always right, somehow." 

I wished I could think so myself ; but 
'twas with serious misgivings that I felt the 
train roll out of the station. 

Oh, that long journey north, alone, in a 
ladies' compartment — with the feeling that 
Harold was so near, yet so unapproach- 
able : it was an endless agony. He had the 
Maharajah, who loved and admired him, to 
keep him from brooding ; but I, left alone, 
and confined with my own fears, conjured 
up before my eyes every possible misfortune 
that Heaven could send us. I saw clearly 
now that if we failed in our purpose this 
journey would be taken by everyone for a 
flight, and would deepen the suspicion under 
which we both laboured. It would make me 
still more obviously a conspirator with Harold. 

Whatever happened, we must strain every 
nerve to reach Scotland in safety, and then 
to get married, in order that Harold might 
immediately surrender himself. 

At York, I noticed with a thrill of terror 
that a man in plain clothes, with the obtru- 
sively unobtrusive air of a detective, looked 
carefully though casually into every carriage. 
I felt sure he was a spy, because of his 
marked outer jauntiness of demeanour, which 
hardly masked an underlying hang-dog ex- 
pression of scrutiny. When he reached my 
place, he took h. long, careless stare at me — 




a seemingly careless stare, which was yet 
brim-full of the keenest observation. Then 
he paced slowly along the line of carriages, 
with a glance at each, till he arrived just 
opposite the .Maharajah's compartment. 
There he stared hard once more. The 
Maharajah descended ; so did Harold and 

be impossible for us to get married at 
Edinburgh if we were thus closely pursued. 
There was but one chance open ; we must 
leave the train abruptly at the first Scotch 
stopping station. 

The detective knew we were booked 
through for Edinburgh, So much 1 could 


the Hindu attendant, who was dressed 
just like him. The man I took for a 
detective indulged in a frank, long gaze at 
the unconscious Indian prince, but cast only 
a hasty eye on the two ap] parent followers. 
That touch of revelation relieved my mind a 
little, I felt convinced the police were 
watching the Maharajah and myself, as sus- 
picious persons connected with the case ; but 
they had not yet guessed that Harold had 
disguised himself as one of the two invariable 
Rajput servants. 

We steamed on northward. At Newcastle, 
the same detective strolled, with his hands in 
his pockets, along the train once more, 
and puued a cigar with the nonchalant air 
of a sporting gentleman. But 1 was certain 
now, from the studious unconcern he was 
anxious to exhibit, that he must be a spy 
upon us. He overdid his mood of careless 
observation. It was too obvious an assump- 
tion. Precisely the same thing happened 
again when wu pulled up at Berwick. I 
knew now that we were watched. It would 

tell, because I saw him make inquiries of the 
ticket examiner at York, and again at Berwick, 
and because the ticket-examiner thereupon 
entered a mental note of the fact as he 
punched my ticket each time : " Oh, Edin- 
burgh, miss ? All right " ; and then stared at 
me suspiciously* I could tell he had heard 
of the Ashurst will case. He also lingered 
long about the Maharajah's compartment, 
and then went back to confer with the detec- 
tive. Thus, [Hitting two and two together, 
as a woman will, I came to the conclusion 
that the spy did not ex{>ect us to leave the 
train before we reached Edinburgh. That 
told in our favour. Most men trust much to 
just such vague expectations. They form a 
theory, and then neglect the adverse chances. 
You can only get the better of a skilled 
detective by taking him thus, psychologically 
and humanly. 

By this time, I confess, I felt almost like 
a criminal. Never in my life had danger 
loomed so near— not even when we returned 
with the Adriqifrom the oasis. For then 




Partab go on 


we feared for our lives alone; now, we feared 
for our honour 

I drew a card from my case before we 
left Berwick station, and scribbled a few 
hasty words on it in German. "We are 
watched, A detective ! If we run through 
to Edinburgh, we shall doubtless be arrested 
or at least impeded, This train will stop 
at Dunbar for one minute. Just before it 
leaves again, get out as quietly as you can 
— at the last moment I will also get out 
and join you, Let 
will excite less attention 
The scheme I suggest 
is the only safe plan. 
If you agree, as soon 
as we have well started 
from Berwick, shake 
your handkerchief un- 
obtrusively out of your 
carriage window." 

I beckoned a porter 
noiselessly without one 
word. The detective 
was now strolling along 
the fore - part of the 
train, with his back 
turned towards me, peer- 
ing as he went into all 
the windows. I gave 
the porter a. shilling. 
11 Take this to a black 
gentleman in the next 
carriage but one/' I 
said, in a confidential 
whisper, The porter 
touched his hat, nodded, 
smiled, and took it. 

Would Harold see 
the necessity for acting 
on my advice ? — I won- 
dered, I gazed out 
along the train as soon 
as we had got well clear 
of Berwick- A minute 
— two minutes — three 
minutes passed ; and 
still no handkerchief. I began to despair. 
He was debating, no doubt. If he refused, 
all was lost, and we were disgraced for ever. 

At last, after long waiting, as I stared still 
along the whizzing line, wilh the smoke in 
my eves, and thedusl half blinding me, I saw, 
to my intense relief, a handkerchief flutter, 
It fluttered once, not markedly, then a black 
hand withdrew it Only just in time, for 
even as it disappeared, the detective's head 
thrust itself out of a farther window. He 
was not looking for anything in particular, as 


far as I could tell — just observing the signals. 
But it gave me a strange thrill to think even 
now we were so nearly defeated. 

My next trouble was — would the train 
draw up at Dunbar? The 10 a.m. from 
Euston is not set down to stop there in 
Bradshaw, for no passengers are booked to 
or from the station by the day express ; but 
I remembered from of old when I lived at 
Edinburgh, that it used always to wait about 
a minute for some engine-driver's purpose. 
This doubt filled me with fresh fear; did it 
draw up there still ? — 
they have accelerated 
the service so much of 
late years, and abolish- 
ed so many old accus- 
tomed stoppages. 1 
counted the familiar 
stations with my breath 
held back, They seemed 
so much farther apart 
than usual. Reston — 
Grant's House — Cock- 
burnspath — Innerwick. 

The next was Dun- 
bar, If we rolled past 
ihaty then all was lost. 
We could never get 
married* I trembled 
and hugged myself* 

The engine screamed* 
Did that mean she was 
running through ? Oh, 
how I wished I had 
learned the interpreta- 
tion of the signals ! 

Then gradual ly, gently, 
we began to slow. Were 
we slowing to pass the 
station only? No; with 
a jolt she drew up. My 
heart gave a bound as I 
read the word " Dun- 
bar H on the station 

I rose and waited, 
with my fingers on the door. Happily 
it had one of those new-fashioned slip- 
latches which open from inside. No need 
to betray myself prematurely to the detec- 
tive by a hand displayed on the outer 
handle. I glanced out at him cautiously. 
His head was thrust through his window, 
and his sloping shoulders revealed the 
spy, but he was looking the other way — 
observing the signals, doubtless, to discover 
why we stopped at a place not mentioned in 
BradshawOnginal from 





;,';!; DDmH 


"J,+ : [ .' r; \ : '- tr ' ;i 

^— "ill 1 



Harold's face just showed from another 
window close by. Too soon or too late 
might either of them be fatal. He glanced 
inquiry at me. I nodded back, "Now!" 
The train gave its first jerk, a faint backward 
jerk, indicative of the nascent intention of 
starting. As it braced itself to go on, I 
jumped out ; so did Harold We faced one 
another on the platform without a word. 
" Stand away there ! " the station-master cried, 
in an angry voice, and waved his white flag. 
The detective, still absorbed on the signals, 
never once looked back. One second later, 
we were safe at Dunbar, and he was speeding 
away by the express for Edinburgh! 

It gave us a breathing space of about an 

For half a minute I could not speak. My 
heart was in my mouth. I hardly even dared 
to look at Harold* Then the station-master 
stalked up to us with a threatening manner 
" You can't get out here," he said, crustily, in 

at Dunbar; and as the train happened to 
pull up, we thought we needn't waste time by 
going on all that way and then coming back 

" Ye should have changed at Berwick," 
the station-master said, still gruffly, ( * and 
come on by the slow train." I could see 
his careful Scotch soul was vexed {inci- 
dentally) at our extravagance in paying 
the extra fare to Edinburgh and back 

In spite of agitation, I managed to summon 
up one of my sweetest smiles — a smile that 
ere now had melted the hearts of rickshaw 
coolies and of French d&utwitrs. He thawed 
before it visibly. "Time was important to 
us/* I said — oh, he guessed not how im- 
portant ; "and besides, you know, it is so 
good for the company ! " 

11 That's true," he answered, mollified. He 
could not tilt against the interests of the 
North British shareholders. " But how about 


a gruff Scotch voice* " This train is not 
timed to set down before Edinburgh." 

" We have got out," I answered, taking it 
upon me to speak for my fellow-culprit, the 
Hindu as hu was to all seeming. "The 
logic of facts is with us. We were booked 
through to Edinburgh, but- we wanted to stop 

yer luggage? It'll have gone on to Edin- 
burgt\ I'm thinking." 

u We have no luggage," I answered, boldly* 

He stared at us both, puckered his brow a 

moment, and then burst out laughing. " Oh, 

ay, I see," he answered, with a comic air of 

amusement-'NLfflWfeltyoiflell, it's none of my 




business, no doubt, and I will not interfere 
with ye ; though why a lady like you— — " 
He glanced curiously at Harold. 

I saw he had guessed right, and thought it 
best to throw myself unreservedly on his 

" Can we get a trap ? " 

" Oh, ay, there's machines always waiting 
at the station." 

We interviewed a " machine," and drove 
out to Little Kirkton- There, we told our 


mercy. Time was indeed important, 1 
glanced at the station dock. It awas not 
very far from the stroke of six, and we must 
manage to get married before the detective 
could miss us at Edinburgh, where he was 
due at 6.30. 

So I smiled once more, that heart-soften- 
ing smile, " We have each our own fancies," 
I said, blushing — and, indeed (such is the 
pride of race among women}, I felt myself 
blush in earnest at the bare idea that T was 
marrying a black man, in spite of our good 
Maharajah's kindness. u He is a gentleman, 
and a man of education and culture." T 
thought that recommendation ought to tell 
with a Scotchman. " We are in sore straits 
now, but our case is a just one* Can you tell 
me who in this place is most likely to 
sympathize — most likely to marry us?" 

He looked at me- and surrendered at 
discretion. "I should think anybody would 
marry ye who saw yer pretty face and heard 
yer sweet voice/- he answered. " But, perhaps, 
ye'd better present yerself to Mr. Schoolcraft, 
the U.P. minister at Little Kirkton. He 
was ay soft- hearted." 

u How far from here ? " I asked* 

" About two miles," he answered. 

tale in the fewest words possible to the 
obliging and good-natured U.P. minister. 
He looked, as the station-master had said, 
"soft-hearted" ; but he dashed our hopes to 
the ground at once by telling us candidly 
that unless we had had our residence in 
Scotland for twenty-one days immediately 
preceding the marriage, it would not be legal 
" If you were Scotch," he added, u I could 
go through the ceremony at once, of course ; 
and then you could apply to the sheriff to- 
night for leave to register the marriage in 
proper form afterward : but as one of you is 
English, and the other I judge" he smiled 
and glanced towards Harold — "an Indian- 
born subject of Her Majesty, it would be 
impossible for me to do it: the ceremony 
would be invalid, under Lord Brougham's 
Act, without previous residence," 

This was a terrible blow. I looked away 
appealingly. M Harold," 1 cried in despair, 
M do you think we could manage to hide our- 
selves safely any where in Scotland for twenty- 
one days ? " 

His face fell. " How could I escape 
notice? All the world is hunting for me. 
And then, _the . scandal ! No matter where 
you stopr^ l ^lftwl^ Tl far from me— no, 




Lois, darling, I could never expose you 
to it." 

The minister glanced from one to the 
other of us, puzzled. "Harold?" he said, 
turning over the word on his tongue. 
" Harold ? That doesn't sound like an 

Indian name, does it ? And " he 

hesitated, " you speak wonderful English ! " 

I saw the safest plan was to make a clean 
breast of it. He looked the sort of man one 
could trust on an emergency. "You have 
heard of the Ashurst wi\l case?" I said, 
blurting it out suddenly. 

"I have seen something about it in the 
newspapers; yes. But it did not interest 
me: I have not followed it." 

I told him the whole truth; the case 
against us — the facts as we knew them. 
Then I added, slowly, " This is Mr. Harold 
Tillington, whom they accuse of forgery. 
Does he look like a forger? I want to 
marry him before he is tried. It is the only 
way by which I can prove my implicit trust 
in him. As soon as we are married, he will 
give himself up at once to the police — if you 
wish it, before your eyes. But married we 
must be. Carit you manage it somehow ? " 

My pleading voice touched him. " Harold 
Tillington ? " he murmured. " I know of his 
forebears. Lady Guinevere Tillington's son, 
is it not ? Then you must be Younger of 
Gledcliffe." For Scotland is a village: every- 
one in it seems to have heard of every other. 

"What does he mean?" I asked. "Younger 
of Gledcliffe?" I remembered now that 
the phrase had occurred in Mr. Ashurst's will, 
though I never understood it. 

"A Scotch fashion," Harold answered. 
" The heir to a laird is called Younger of so- 
and-so. My father has a small estate of that 
name in Dumfriesshire ; a very small estate : 
I was born and brought up there." 

"Then you are a Scotchman?" the 
minister asked. 

" I have never counted myself so," Harold 
answered, frankly: "except by remote descent. 
We are trebly of the female line at Gledcliffe ; 
Still, I am no doubt more or less Scotch by 

" Younger of Gledcliffe ! Oh, yes, that 
ought certainly to be quite sufficient for our 
purpose. But then — the lady ? " 

"She is unmitigatedly English," Harold 
admitted, in a gloomy voice. 

" Not quite," I answered. " I lived four 
years in Edinburgh. And I spent my 
holidays there while I was at Girton. I keep 
my boxes still at my old rooms in Maitland 
Street." Di 

Vol. xvii.-8 

" Oh, that will do," the minister answered, 
quite relieved ; for it was clear that our 
anxiety and the touch of romance in our tale 
had enlisted him in our favour. " Indeed, 
now I come to think of it, it suffices 
for the Act if one only of the parties is 
domiciled in Scotland. Still, I can do nothing 
save marry you now by religious service in 
the presence of my servants — which con- 
stitutes what we call an ecclesiastical marriage 
—it becomes legal if afterwards registered ; 
and then you must apply to the sheriff for a 
warrant to register it. But I will do what I 
can; later on, if you like, you can be re- 
married by the rites of your own Church in 

" Are you quite sure our Scotch domicile 
is good enough in law ? " Harold asked, still 

" I can turn it up, if you wish. I have a 
legal hand-book. Before Lord Brougham's 
Act, no formalities were necessary. But the 
Act was passed to prevent Gretna Green 
marriages. The usual phrase is that such a 
^marriage does not hold good unless one or 
other of the parties either has had his or her 
usual residence in Scotland, or else has lived 
there for twenty-one days immediately pre- 
ceding the date of the marriage. If you 
like, I will wait to consult the authorities." 

"No, thank you," I cried. "There is no 
time to lose. Marry us first, and look it up 
afterwards. * One or other ' will do, it seems. 
Mr. Tillington is Scotch enough, I am sure ; 
we will rest our claim upon that. Even if 
the marriage turns out invalid, we only 
remain where we were. This is a preliminary 
ceremony to prove good faith, and to bind us 
to one another. We can satisfy the law, if 
need be, when we return to England." 

The minister called in his wife and servants, 
and explained to them briefly. He exhorted 
us and prayed. We gave our solemn consent 
in legal form before five witnesses. Then he 
pronounced us duly married. In a quarter 
of an hour more, we had made declaration to 
that effect before the sheriff, and were form- 
ally affirmed to be man and wife before the 
law of Great Britain. I asked if it would 
hold in England as well. 

" You couldn't be firmer married," the 
sheriff said, with decision, " by the Archbishop 
of Canterbury in Westminster Abbey." 

Harold turned to the minister. "Will 
you send for the police ? " he said, calmly. 
" I wish to inform them that I am the man 
for whom they are looking in the Ashurst 
willcase." 0r j j na | from 




was a terrible moment But Harold sat in 
the sheriffs study and waited, as if nothing 
unusual were happening. He talked freely 
but quietly. Never in my life had I felt so 
proud of him. 

At last the police came, much inflated with 
the dignity of so great a capture, and took 
down our statement. tf Do you give yourself 
in charge on a confession of forgery ? " the 
superintendent askud, as Harold ended. 

"Certainly not/' Harold answered. "I 
have not committed forgery. But I do not 
wish to skulk or hide myself. I understand 
a warrant is out against me in London. I 
have come to Scotland, hurriedly, for the 
sake of getting married, not to escape appre- 
hension* I am here, openly, under my own 
name, I tell you the facts ; 'tis for you to 
decide : if you choose, you can arrest me," 

The superintendent conferred for some 
time in another room with the sheriff. Then 
he returned to the study, ** Very well, sir," 
he said, in a respectful tone, " I arrest you," 

So that was the beginning of our married 
life. More than ever, 
I felt sure I could 
trust in Harold. 

The police decided, 
after hearing by tele- 
gram from London, 
that we must go up 
at once by the night 
expressj which they 
stopped for the pur- 
pose. They were 
forced to divide us, 
I took the sleeping 
car ; Harold travelled 

with two constables in an ordinary carriage. 
Strange to say, notwithstanding all this, so 
great was our relief from the tension of our 
flight, that we both slept soundly. 

Next morning we arrived in London, 
Harold guarded. The police had arranged 
that the case should come up at Bow Street 
that afternoon. It was not an ideal honey- 
moon, and yet, I w T as somehow happy. 

At Euston, they took him away from me. 
And still, I hardly cried. All the way up in 
the train, whenever I was awake, an idea had 
been haunting me— a possible clue to this 
trickery of Lord South minster's. Petty 
details cropped up and fell into their places. 
1 began to unravel it all now. I had an 
inkling of a plan to set Harold right again. 

The will we had proved but I must not 


When we parted, Harold kissed me on the 
forehead, and murmured rather sadly, "Now 
1 suppose it's all up. Lois, I must go. 
These rogues have been too much for us." 
44 Not a bit of it," I answered, new hope 
growing stronger and 
stronger within me. 
" I see a way out. 
I have found a clue. 
I believe, dear 
Harold, the right 
will still be vindi- 

And red-eyed as 
I was, I jumped into 
a hansom, and called 
to the cabman to 
drive at once to Lady 

X J „v 


by Google 

Original from 

Unique Log- Marks. 

By Alp ret) L Bur k holder, 

lOGS belonging to various in- 
dividuals and firms in the 
lumber industry of the 
North - Western United 
States are identified and 
separated in a striking 
*■ fashion. To illustrate 
I this it will he neees- 
j sary to outline briefly 
the routine of work 
connected with the great lumbering industry 
of the regions mentioned. Logging camps 
are established in the heart of a forest. 
Where no railroads have been extended to 
the vicinity of the camps, roads are cut to the 
nearest river, which is the highway by which 
the logs are taken in the spring to saw-mills, 
where they are manufactured into shingles, 
lath, boards, timbers, and planks- Therefore, 
proximity to a river is necessarily taken into 
consideration when a camp is located. 

After the trees are sawed down by men 
engaged especially for this duty, they are 
sawed into log lengths and 
hauled, perhaps several 
miles, to the bank of the 
river. Some of the camps 
contain as many as 300 or 
400 men, and this force is 
kept busy during the entire 
winter cutting down trees, 
sawing them into logs, and 
hauling them to the river. Here they are 
placed in huge piles, and it is at this time 
that the log-mark of the owner is placed upon 
them by an individual known as the "scaler," 
whose duty it also is to measure the diameter 
of each log and keep a record of it. 

In this article we show a few of these 
curious log-marks — odd artistic inventions of 
the untrained minds of the lumber-camps. 
There is no attempt at uniformity in ideas. 
Anything that has the least bit of distinc- 
tiveness about it is sufficient for the 
purpose, which explains the presence of 
pound-marks, tea-pots, frogs, babies, yokes, 
division signs, and wheel - barrows in the 
illustrations for this article. 

The instrument with which 
the "scaler" places the mark 
upon a log is in the shape of a 
sledge-hammer, the back of the 
hammer portion having upon 
it a device similar to the log- 
mark of the man by whom 
he is employed and to whom 
the logs belong. The log- 

in ences. 

mark itself is raised to a height of about 
ij^in. or 2in. above the surrounding surface 
of steel, and when the sawed end of a log is 
struck with it, the mark of the owner is 
punched into the end of the log to a depth 
which prevents its obliteration, unless the 
whole end of the log is sawed off and 
removed, Crude designs, differing from 
the regular log-mark, are sometimes cut 
into the bark of the log to assist in 
more readily identifying the owner. Copies 
of log-marks and cattle-brands are, as pro- 
vided by law, placed on a file in the office of 
the county recorder of deeds in the county 
in which the cattle owner or lumberman 

For greater convenience the ice in the river 
is thickly covered with the logs as spring 
approaches. When the break-up of ice in 
the river occurs, and the stream is swollen by 
the melting of snow and the early spring 
rains, what is called the log " drive " corn- 
In some portions of the lumbering 
, regions the disappearance of 
the forests has left the saw- 
mills further and further 
from the product without 
which they cannot operate, 
and the logs have to be 
floated great distances. 
Thus, a "drive" of 100 or 
2 00 miles is nothing un- 
usual, and on the Mississippi river logs are 
frequently taken as much as 300 miles. 

On one river perhaps a dozen or more 
lumbering firms, having no connection with 
each other, are operating, and when spring 
comes all their logs are rolled into the 
stream, to soon become so mixed op that 
the novice naturally becomes of the opinion 
that their separation is an impossibility. The 
work during a log " drive rj is the hardest 
and most dangerous connected with the 
lumbering industry. 

The men are required to be up long before 
daylight, so that they may eat their break- 
fasts and walk to the river, perhaps several 
miles distant, arriving there at 
daylight to begin the work of 
the day. Refreshments are 
taken to them twice during 
the day, at about ten o'clock 
in the forenoon, and again at 
two o'clock in the afternoon. 
They work until it becomes 
t*urk, when they walk hack 

~ ftlMjPMCTfifott P rocure their 



suppers and much -needed rest. The log 
drivers are required to keep the logs floating 
in the streams. In rainy or cold weather, 
such as is frequently experienced in the 
lumbering regions, their work is very arduous 
and debilitating. It is of the utmost im- 
portance that the work of float- 
ing the logs out be pushed 
while there is sufficient water 
in the streams, many of which 
become nothing more than 
creeks later in the season, when 
dry weather sets in. 

The force of the current be- 
hind the huge mass of logs may 
force hundreds of logs to a 
lodgment on the bank when 
curves in the stream are reached, 
and then the men are compelled to work, 
perhaps waist deep, in the water in order to 
clear the stranded logs and once more 
get them afloat. The foremost logs are 
especially looked after and kept on the 
move, for should they become lodged the 
obstruction thus formed would speedily 
cause a log "jam 3 " the thing particularly to 

be dreaded by the 

the extreme care and 
precautions, jams 
occasionally occur. 
Then the logs are 
piled high in the 
air, the weight of 
the mass sinking the 
logs to the bottom of the river, and extend- 
ing from bank to bank of the stream, form- 
ing an almost solid wedge, which constantly 
becomes larger and more compact. It is 
nothing unusual for the logs to be piled to 
a height of 100ft, or 150ft., and extending 
for several miles up the river, 

A jam in the St, Croix river, in Wisconsin 
and Minnesota, in the spring 
of 1892, was about six miles 
in length. Another one that 
formed in the Chippewa 
river, in the former State, in 
1886, extended ten miles, 
This river was also the scene, 
twenty years ago, of perhaps 
the greatest log jam in 
history. It extended for 
twenty- fi ve m il es, and was 




a distance 
contain over 150,000^000^ of lumber. 

It sometimes requires several days' hard 
labour to H break " a jam. Not infrequently 
a single log may be the cause of the whole 

difficulty, and the removal of this " key " log 
is naturally a dangerous duty. It may be 
lodged so tightly by the great mass of logs 
wedged against it by the swift current of the 
river, that its removal is accomplished only 
after chopping it in two with an axe. The man 
who does this takes his life in 
his hands, for the removal of 
the " key " log almost instantly 
releases the towering mass of 
logs behind it and the greatest 
agility is required by the daring 
man to reach a place of safety 
ere the released mass goes 
churning onward, forced to 
almost lightning speed by the 
irresistible power behind it 
The log drivers wear heavy 
boots, from the soles of which project 
sharpened steel or iron spikes, placed 
thickly. With these, it in time becomes 
an easy matter for the men to run about 
on the floating and twisting logs with as 
much confidence as that exhibited by the 
dweller in a city when 
striding along a pave- 
ment Accidents, how- 
ever, occasionally hap- 
pen , and some of the 
men are precipitated 
into the water. Where 
an experienced hand 
loses his balance and 
falls into the water he 
i m mediately becomes 
an object of ridicule, 
and is severely ban- 
tered by his comrades. The involuntary bath 
of a new hand is taken as a matter of course, 
and occasions no particular comment. 

The men become surprisingly expert at 
log " riding," as it is termed. A remark- 
able instance of this expert ness was 
witnessed by a writer while visiting the 
lumber region on the Ottawa 
and tributary rivers, in 
Canada. He was sitting in 
his tent one evening on the 
west bank of the River des 
Quinze, near the head of 
Lake Temiscamingue, when 
he heard a young french- 
man on the opposite side of 
the stream call for a boat to come over 
and take liini across. At the lime, a great. 
alaiiy logs w r ere floating down the river, the 
current carrying them close to the shore a 
short distance above the point where the 
youn^ frenchman stood, and then sweeping 




■- - 



them diagonally across 
the stream close to the 
shore nearly in front of 
the tent of the observer. 

No boat answering 
his hail, the Frenchman 
walked up the shore 
to where the logs were 
pressing it most closely, and, watching 
his opportunity, jumped upon one. With 
his hands in his pockets he unconcernedly 
waited for his improvised ferry to take him 
to the opposite shore. In midstream the logs 
were carried through a rapid. Here the log 
upon which the young man was standing 
began to revolve rapidly in the .swift current, 
but he speedily cheeked the dangerous move- 
ment by forcing it to revolve in the opposite 

During the strange journey across the 
river, which at that point was fully 200yds. 
wide, he never for a moment lost his balance, 
and all the time was whistling cheerily, 
apparently wholly oblivious of the danger. 
When the log upon which he stood was 
swept across the river and 
close to the opposite shore, 
he calmly leaped to the bank. 
He could not swim, which, 
strange to relate, is the case 
with fully one -half of the 
men engaged in the danger- 
ous work of log driving, 

I am told by a gentleman familiar with the 
scenes and incidents connected with log 
driving, that he has frequently seen the 
drivers cross rivers which were comparatively 
free of logs, by standing upon a log and 
with their ftet making it revolve quite swiftly, 
and thus gradually propelling it across the 
stream, Perhaps it was by observing this 
operation that the inventor conceived the 
idea of a roller boat, with which experiments 
have been made on the Atlantic, 

When the logs have reached their destina- 
tion the utility of the log-marks is apparent. 
When the great mass of logs have been 
floated to the vicinity of the saw-mills which 
will manufacture them into lumber, they are 
brought to a standstill, and preparations are 
made to separate the 
logs belonging to dif- 
ferent owners, Long 
11 booms " are con- 
structed up and down 
the river a short 

distance below the head 
of the drive of logs. 

Logs placed end to 
end, and securely 
fastened together, form 
the " booms." The 
upper end is chained 
to piers or other im- 
movable objects, which are stout enough to 
hold the string of logs forming the booms, 
A river is divided ofT into a sufficient number 
of 4I booms " to provide a separate boom for 
each firm or individual having logs in the 
"drive." A strong rope is then stretched 
across the river a short distance above the 
ends of the booms. This swings only a few 
feet above the river, and is for the con- 
venience of the men who separate the logs 
and float them into the proper boom. 

The space between the shore and the 
first boom is exclusively for logs belonging 
to a certain firm or individual ; the space 
between the first and second booms for 
those of another, and so on. As the logs 
are floated down from the stationary "drive" 
above, which, perhaps, fills 

4 the river from bank to bank, 
and extends up the stream 
as far as the eve can reach, 
the men whose duty it is to 
separate the logs catch them 
as fast as they are floated 
down to them, hastily glance 
at the log -mark, mount the log, and, with 
. the aid of the rope stretched from bank to 
bank, pull themselves and the log to a j>oint 
directly above the boom of the owner of the 
log, and then release it, and permit it to be 
carried by the current into the proper boom. 
With the aid of pike-poles and other appli- 
ances, each man can take care of a number 
of logs at one time, thus simplifying and 
expediting the work of separating the logs. 
As many men as can work without being in 
each other's way are stationed immediately 
above the booms, and separate the logs with 
astonishing accuracy and rapidity. 

The log-marks, as in the case of cattle- 
brands, reduce the theft of logs to the 
minimum, as the tell-tale mark, if overlooked 
and not removed, is 
a silent though con- 
vincing witness against 
anyone who steals it 
and in whose posses- 
sion it is found. 


Kv M. Dinorben Griffith and Madame Camille Flammarion. 

r SP^{m i 


or twice one has come 
lh ross a story of some adven- 
turous couple (usually in 
America) who have been 
married in a captive balloon. 
The incident is reproduced 
time, the newspapers printing 

from time to 

it almost always placing on some other news 
paper the responsibility of the statement. 
The story may originally have taken its birth 
in a diseased craving of some undistinguished 
couple for notoriety, or, as is more likely, in 
a lack of striking headlines for some very 
enterprising American paper. But in any 
case, we are concerned here with no such 
matter, but with an actual, wedding trip, 
undertaken and carried through by a very 
distinguished couple, in a perfectly free 
balloon ; and this with no idea of notoriety- 

The name of M. Camille Flanimarion, the 
distinguished French astronomer, is very 
nearly as familiar in this country as in 
France, and some of his most important 
works are made popular by means of trans- 
lations. He is distinguished by an imagina- 
tion very rare in men of science, and his 
theories of the inhabitation of the stars are of 
a very striking and beautiful character ; while 
many other of his astronomical speculations 
are similarly bold and original 

M. Flam mar ion's interest in 
began more than thirty years ago, and since 
that time he has been a most enthusiastic 
aeronaut ; making very numerous ascents and 
recording large numbers of extremely im- 
portant scientific observations. His book, 
*' Voyages en Ballon," contains many inter- 
esting accounts of his ascents, and has been 
translated by Mr. James G la isher, the English 
meteorologist and aeronaut. It is of the 
wulding trip performed in a Ixilloon by 
Mohsieij- and Madame Flam mar; 
are to speak 


,ri,:,n lhal we 

Madame Flammarion is herself a most 
enthusiastic balloon-traveller. Indeed, she 
has often said that nothing but the practical 
impossibility of the feat prevents her living 
altogether in a balloon. And she takes much 
delight in recounting the story of her wedding 
trip, which was her first balloon ascent* and 
of a humorous incident which characterized it. 
We shall give Madame Flammarion's account 
as nearly as her own words can be rendered 
in English. The story was told us in the 
beautiful garden of the Chateau Juvisy, the 
magnificent house which is now M. Flam- 
marion's home and observatory, but which 
has been the resting-place of French Kings 
in their journeys between Paris and Fontaine- 
bleau, from Henri Quatre to Louis Philippe. 
Parenthetically we may say that Madame 
Flammarion is herself a distinguished person, 
and Vice-President of the League of Indies 
on behalf of International Disarmament, 
This is her story as she tells it i — 

I had always wished to make a balloon 
ascent. The stories and descriptions I had 
read had touched my enthusiasm, and already, 
before I had entered a balloon, I was, at 
heart, an enthusiastic aeronaut. To hang in 
space above, looking down upon the rolling 
w T orld below, and all the little people in it, 
was for years the height of all my ambitions. 
Nevertheless, I never expected to make an 
ascent in circumstances so novel and charm- 
ing as those which at: tu ally accompanied my 
first balloon experience. 

Just before our marriage, in discussing with 
my future husband the form which our 
wedding journey should take, I begged him 
to choose the most magnificent and poetical 
route possible an ideal route, never before 
made use of in the like circumstances. 
M. Flammarion understood my meaning 
at once. Indeed, the same thought had 
occurred to 1 i mielf, though 1 first gave it 




From this moment Flammarion was busily 
engaged with the aeronaut, M. Jules Godard, 
in making preparations for the aerial journey. 
But preparations for the wedding itself also 
claimed attention, and it was in some part in 
consequence of Flam- 
marion's desires in this 
matter that an odd incident 
made memorable the first 
part of our journey. 

First we were married in 
legal form — in a manner 
corresponding to marriage 
before a registrar in Eng- 
land, Flammarion wished 
this to be the only ceremony, 
and desired no Church rite; 
in this being consistent with 
his great astronomical philo- 
sophy, which I expect to be 
the religion of the future. 
But in the end he waived 
his determination, to please 
our mothers— and, I must 
confess, to please me also* 
But he made the condition 
that there should he no con- 
fession, such as is usually 
made part of the Roman 
Catholic ceremony. The 
good Abbe P- 



Frmn a Photo, fry Ate*an*Ur Martin, FarU 

who was to officiate, ex- 
pended all his eloquence to shake Flam- 
marion ? s determination in this respect, but his 
eloquence and his pains went 
for nothing. It was useless 
to insist, Flammarion assured 
him, and he found it so, 

u But t my dear friend," 
pleaded the excellent Abtxf, 
" if not a confession, then at 
least something : merely a 

" No ! Never ! Not even 
that ! " was Flatnirarion's 
final answer. 

" Then," persisted , the 
Abb£, " you will at any rate 
grant me one personal 
favour— nothing connected 
with the ceremony. Say, 
now > will you grant me that 

"Most certainly," Flam- 
marion replied, rather in- 
cautiously. ■" Granted 
before asked* What is it ? " 

"That I may ascend with 

" Abbe— you are a shrewd man. It shall 



From fl Photo, by Daprvn, I*nri* 




be as you wish, of course, In fact, the 
balloon will carry four, and as we ourselves, 
with the aeronaut, M. Godard, make only 
three, there is a vacancy. You shall fill it, 
Monsieur FAbW — it is promised." 

Unfortunately, the out- 
come of this promise was 
very deep offence to a very 
worthy man — so deep, that 
the Abb£ was almost 
estranged from my husband, 
as you shall hear. 

Every detail of the events 
of our wedding-day is as 
clearly defined in my memory 
as if it were but a recollec- 
tion of yesterday. It was a 
brilliant day, and all the 
town seemed as gay and as 
happy as we. Still, there 
was one little matter of 
regret — our balloon trip 
must be postponed for a 
little while, for M. Jules 
Godard had had an apo- 
plectic fit three days before, 
and was not yet recovered. 
This the Abbe did not know. 
The service, which was 
short, had finished, and we 
were in. our carriage- indeed, Flammarion 
was in the act of closing the door — when a 
vigorous hand seized the bridegroom's and a 
joyous voice cried, " And I 

It was the Abb& In the 
confusion of our happiness 
we had quite forgotten that 
he was to accompany us to 
the breakfast— to which, as 
a matter of fact, he had been 
the first person invited. 

The Abbe entered the 
carriage with no more cere- 
mony, installed himself com- 
fortably, and carefully 
deposited a travelling bag 
on the seat before him. 

H Hey ! hey ! " quoth the 
AbW, laughing merrily and 
rubbing his hands together* 
" Here we are, my friends 3 
Well ! We set out this 
evening in our balloon, 
don't we ? Kh ? I have 
prepared — O yes, I have 
prepared ! I shall send messages to all my 
friends. I hnrc filled this bag with little 

6 4 


'From the altitude of the heavens I salute 

you. Abb£ P .' These we will throw out 

from the balloon ! " 

" But, my dear Abb£," said Flammarion, 
a little taken aback ; " we haven't told you. 
WeVe not going now ! " 

The Abb£ grew almost livid. " Come ! " 
he stammered. " What— what's this ? Is it 
a joke ? Anyhow, it isn't a good one ! " 

" I assure you, my dear Abb£, it is no 
joke, but the simple truth. We can't go, for 
Godard the aeronaut is ill. Three days ago 
he had an apoplectic fit — indeed, he very 
nearly died. What should we have done if 
the fit had occurred in the balloon ? He is 
better now, but not well enough to make 
the ascent." 

The poor Abb£ was thunderstruck. " And 
I was so counting on the journey ! " he said. 
" I've been telling everybody I know ! People 
have even been sending me provisions for 
the voyage. Truly, I don't know where we 
should have put them ; but that's beside the 
question — they came. And now we are 
not to go ! I shall be the laughing-stock 
of all my acquaintance ! It's too bad — too 

All through the breakfast the Abb£ re- 
mained melancholy, notwithstanding the 
merry occasion, and the fact that Madame 
Godard, who was present, assured him that 
her husband was quite unable to make an 
ascent in his weakly condition. Till at last, 
in parting from him, Flammarion cheered 
him by the assurance that he should go up in 
a balloon after all, for, in fact, the project was 
only deferred. And so the Abb£ departed 
hopefully. But who can count on the 
future ? Fate disposed things differently, and 

poor Abb£ P 's misfortune endured to the 

end of the matter. 

At last the time arrived, a week after the 
wedding-day. On the eve of the day fixed 
for the ascent my brother-in-law — Ernest 
Flammarion, the publisher— came to see us. 
He also wished to ascend with us ; was most 
eager, in fact. It must be remembered that, 
at the time I speak of, balloon ascents were 
much less common than they have since 
become, and one had very few opportunities 
of an experience in the air. In the end, my 
husband promised his brother that he should 
come, if only the Abb£ should be prevented, 
or should from any cause forego his claim. 
Ernest quite understood the situation, and 
waited with much anxiety, but with little 
hope. " It's not of much use," he said. 
"The Abbe won't give up his place. I'm 
afraid the thing's settled ! " 

The few hours intervening before the time 
fixed for the start were hours of anxious 
watching. The weather was perfect, but we 
were constantly on thorns lest some change 
should manifest itself. 

But what of the Abb£ ? When the start 
was determined upon — on the morning of 
the day when Ernest Flammarion called on 
us— my husband hurried out to inform the 
Abb£, but found that he was away from 
home, at La Varenne Saint-Hilaire, which he 
always made his summer residence. Still, 
the AbWs servant assured Flammarion that 
he would be back, doubtless in the evening. 
So a note was written and left on the AbWs 
desk, thus : — 

"We set out to-morrow at close of day 
in a balloon ; do not miss this celestial 
appointment, but meet us at about five 
o'clock at the gas-works of La Villette. — 

The eventful day (it was the 28th of 
August, 1874) dawned brilliantly, and the 
day fulfilled the promise of the dawn — a 
delightfully equable temperature, a gentle 
breeze, and a bright sky. And at five we 
assembled at the gas-works — our aeronaut 
and his wife, my brother-in-law, Ernest 
Flammarion, and ourselves, with a number 
of friends to see us off. 

It is necessary to allow plenty of time for 
preparations in view of a balloon ascent, 
because of the innumerable details to be 
attended to, any one of which may delay the 
start for an unexpected length of time. One 
may allow an hour as ample, and then, at 
the end of three hours, find the balloon 
still unready. No such delay occurred in 
this case, though Godard and his assistants 
were hard at work for some time, while we 
talked with our friends. 

The balloon, which rolled and swung 
before us, had been specially made for us, 
and it was of 2,000 metres cubic capacity. 
Its material was the best China silk, and it 
had a magnificent dark golden tint, most 
beautiful as it rose, semi-transparent in the 

In vain we awaited the Abbe. We 
wondered whether anything could have pre- 
vented his receiving the note, or whether he 
might be ill. It would soon be impossible 
to wait longer. The balloon trembled, and 
the great globe rose, little by little, from the 
ground. Soon it was a truly beautiful object, 
immense in its rotundity and majestic as it 
rose above us, vibrating with the powerful 
breath that soon was to lift us up into the 




Everything was prepared, unci still there 

was no sign of Abbi I J . 

''Plainly the Abbe is not coming," said 

(kaJarcL " We can wait no longer. We 

must start at once if we are to see Paris at 

sunset ! " 
"Then we will go," said my husband. 

And scatce had he turned to speak to his 

brother when the latter was in the car beside 

tht: aeronaut. Indeed, he scarce seemed 

certain of his good fortune tUl he was well 

in the air. 
Now it was my turn. The car was a little 

way from the ground, so my husband carried 

me, I was trembling with excitement and 

impatience. In 

another minute, 

when all four were 

in their places, 

Godard cried/* 

go, atl ! " and our 

friends about the 

car fell back 

For me, I con- 

fess, it was a serious 

moment. 1 could 

not resist specu- 
lations as to where 

we were going, into 

what tempestuous 

whirlwind we might 

be carried, what 

lightning - cloud 

might rend and 

bum our balloon, 

now so gallant and 

so beautiful. 
We rose, at first, 

softly and slowly. 

For a long time 

we could hear the 

voices below us, 

*Au repair ! A 

g«jd voyage and a 

qukk return ! " But 

with our release 1 from the earth we were no 
longer the same : we seemed to leave all 
earthly interests behind us* Our bodily 
weight we seemed to lose, and our brains 
also grew buoyant. We were held entirely 
by admiration of the wonders about us. 

Nothing so magnificent had I ever 
imagined. The charming landscapes of the 
earth were small things indeed in comparison 
*ith the colossal, the marvellous prospect 
that was before our eyes. When at last we 
found our voices our exclamations seemed 
ridiculously inadequate to the occasion. 

** Heavens ! How beautiful it is, how 
beautiful ! ,f But we could not find adequate 
words for it. 

My husband said, "The earth descends 
below us." And the words well expressed 
the sensation conveyed. The earth seemed 
to sink away from us in a wonderful, indeed, 
in a terrible f manner. Everything was 
wonderful and weird- Indeed, the whole 
of such a journey seems a strange and fan- 
tastic dream, luxurious to the senses and 
impressively superb, Its beauty cannot be 
told, cannot be written. It must be seen and 

The sun was sinking in the west. For a 

while the daylight 
seemed even more 
intense as it was 
about to vanish, 
Then the sun dis- 
appeared ; it had 
set. But we rose 
and rose, and pre- 
sently we saw the 
red wonder again. 
In simple fact, here 
was the sun rising 
again for us alone, 
and in the west ! 
But the sight 
lasted a very 
short time, 
and once 
more t h 4 e 
great lumin- 
ary sank from 
sight. We 
had seen the 
sun set twice 
in one even- 
ing ! 

My delight 
was inexpres- 
sible ; to sit 
here beside 
my newly- 
made husband- here in the sky, travelling I 
knew not where. Our movement was alto- 
gether imperceptible we would seem to be 
entirely still ; there was no such current of 
air even as would cause a quiver in the flame 
of a candle. At this time our height was 
about 300 or 40a metres, and we gazed over 
the edge of the car at the towns, the railway 
lines, the fields, and the woods- -all IJliputian 
toys, and things to smile at. 

We passed over the Buttes-Chaumont, at 
Vincennes. I tumed my head to ask a ques- 
tion of Godard, and uras terrified to jwrceive 





that he had in his mouth a large pipe ! I 
touched rny husband's arm, and pointed* He 
looked, and with a cry he instantly snatched 
the pipe away, " Do you want to blow us 
all up ? " he exclaimed. 

But Godard merely laughed. " Ha ! ha ! " 
he cried, " you don't perceive. There is no 
light to it ! It is 
a mere habit* I 
can't do without 
my pipe, and I 
keep it in my 
mouth and imagine 
I am smoking. 
Come, let me have 

The incident 
amused us much, 
and for almost the 
whole of the re- 
mainder of the 
journey the pipe 
remained between 
Godard 's lips, while 
he, to all appear- 
ance, smoked 
with perfect 

And now we 
came by the 
mouth of the 
Marne. Sud- 
denly there was 
a, burst of laugh- 
ter among us ; 
it came from my 
husband. At first he could not answer our 
questions ; then he pointed below, to a place 
where we could perceive something moving. 
" Listen ! " he said 

We listened eagerly, and heard cries of 
despair in the quiet evening air, far below. 
" Flammarion ! Flam mar ion ! He ! Flam- 
mar ion ! Come down ! Come down here ! " 

There was great excitement in the little 
place below. From the garden of a little 
house several persons were making signs to 

" This is the place," exclaimed Flammarion; 
" this is the place, clearly. There is a fatality 
in this ! My friends, we are exactly and 
perpendicularly above the estate of the' Abb£ 
P— , at I,a Varenne Saint- Hilaire ! Do 
you hear ? He calls us ! " 

And indeed it was the fart, the simple fact 
What cruel tricks chance will play ! 

" Come down ! Come down, Flammarion ! " 
And then the voices of those below died 
awav, lor we had gone from their sight It 

Digitized by V^iGOSjlC 


is probable that if we had attempted to 
descend just there we should all have expe- 
rienced a good bath in the Marne — a dan- 
gerous river in these parts. 

Godard threw out ballast, and we rose 
higher still. "What will the Abb^ think?" 
I said. " He will never pardon us for this 

heart-breaking dis- 
appointment ! " 
And, indeed, to 
finish with the poor 
Abbe, I may say 
here that he would 
never believe the 
truth of what had 
happened, nor 
under what condi- 
tions Ernest Flam- 
marion had been 
allowed to take his 
place, He main- 
tained that we 
had arranged the 
whole thing be- 
forehand ; and 
for more than a 
year we saw nothing 
of him, notwith- 
standing our 
friendly attentions 
and most cordial 

Now the moon 
shone with such 
intensity that the 
country stood as 
clearly defined as in full daylight, and the time 
was ha If- past nine. Here we were at the 
height of 1,900 metres, and we seemed to be 
entering into another world. Here all Nature 
was in dead silence, superb and terrible; we 
were in the clouds. My husband has 
described the scene better than I am able. 
We were in the starry skies, having at our 
feet clouds that seemed vast mountains 
of snow — an impressive, unearthly land- 
scape—white alps, glaciers, valleys, ridges, 
precipices. An unknown Nature revealed 
herself, creating, as in a dream, the most 
dazzling and fantastic panoramas. Stupend- 
ous combats between the clouds arose and 
rolled ; the air-currents followed one another, 
hurled and flung themselves in mighty com- 
motion, shaking and breaking, in dead 
silence, the monstrous masses. We felt, we 
saw in action, the powerful, incessant, pro- 
digious forces of the atmosphere, while the 
earth slept lielow. 

It was ?. scene beyond all words. Presently 




a monstrous elephant formed itself before 
our eyes, We entered into the very midst of 
it, and were blinded by the cold and damp 
vapour — a singular and awful cloud, whence 
we emerged but to plunge again into others 
more awful still ; now a furious sea, now a 
group of hideous phantoms, now long, 
luminous tracts, glittering like streams of 
silver in the ghostly white light "This is 
not so pleasant," my brother-in-law mur- 
mured. " Why not descend ? TJ 

The billows of 
cloud piled to- 
gether, terribly 
agitated. Above 
us, below us and 
about us, all was 
stirred to fury. 
My agitation was 
great ; for of all 
these circum- 
stan ce s the 
silence, the abso- 
lute silence, was 
the most terrible. 
Amid alt the 
shocks of the 
cloud - masses, 
amid all the rages 
of the hideous 
gigantic phan- 
tomSy of those 
fearful forces 
that might at any 
moment crush 
us in a clap of , 
thunder, not a 
sound* even of 
the faintest, was 
heard. The 
balloon glided 
through the ener- 
vating, cloud- 
filled heavens 
steadily and 
proudly, and 
ioon we were 

free of the mists, and sailing serenely under 
the deep blue sky, in the pale light of the 

14 1 like this better/ 5 said Ernest, and we 
agreed with him. 

We gazed at the white plain of rolling 
clouds below us. What was that— the little 
hall that ran so quickly along the furrowed 
white spaces ? The little ball edged with an 
aureole of tender colours ? 

"That?" answered Godard. "That is 
we ourselves — the balloon. 



shadow. What do you think of its rate of 
travelling, Madame Flam marion— you who 
imagine that we are not moving at all? " 

Truly, it was our own shadow, swiftly 
skimming the clouds below, a curious and 
charming sight. 

And now we saw the first signs of dawn. 
The balloon sank and sank, and soon we 
were skimming above meadows scented with 
a thousand perfumes* To us it seemed that 
we must touch the trees every moment, so 

nearly did we 
approach the 
earth. But, as a 
matter of fact, we 
were still a hun- 
dred metres from 
the ground, 
Again it was a 
delightful experi- 
ence, thus to 
skim above the 
earth in the 
silent, starry 
morning, without 
a breath of air 
that we could 
feel. The plains, 
the hills, the rivu- 
lets passed before 
us as in a dream. 
It was commu- 
nion with Nature 

"Now," said 
Godard, sud- 
denly, a we are 
ascending, and 
quickly." And, 
indeed, as he 
spoke we shot 
upwards, and in 
a moment were 
again among the 
clouds. In the 
distance we ob- 
served a peculiar 
light, Was it a lighthouse? No, we were 
far from the sea. Reassured on this point, 
we are soon uneasy in regard to another, for 
presently we saw that lightning-flashes were 
traversing the clouds, " It is a storm," 
Godard observed, "and it will be a bad one." 
" Then we will throw out ballast and avoid 
it," said my husband. 

It was done, and instantly we ascended to 
the height of 3,000 metres. Now we saw that 
the deep blue of the sky was paling, and day 
broke. Far above ,^s Silius glittered, and in 




a few moments more our 

altitude was 4,000 metres, 

the highest of the trip. 

At this height I breathed 

less freely ; and everything 

liquid in the car — even 

the wine — was frozen. 

We shivered under our 

furs, and there was a 

humming in my ears. In 

spite of these drawbacks 

I was as enthusiastic as 

ever, and I assured my 

husband, who expressed 

some solicitude for me, 

that I had never been 

better, and that I would 

be very glad to live in a 

balloon ! And as for 

descending, who could 

think of it, with such a 

spectacle before us? 

Behind us was the moon 

and the darkness ; below, afar, a storm of 

lightning and thunder ; and before us, most 

wonderful of all, the rising of the sun, filling 

the empyrean with his rays and flinging a 

mantle of purple and gold over all, clouds 

and balloon alike. The mysterious and weird 

beauties of the night gave place to the brilliant 

metamorphosis of 


And now, alas ! we 
returned to earth. In 
twenty minutes, after 
a swift though tran- 
quil descent from 
the height of 4,000 
metres, we were again 
among our fellow- 
mortals, in the neigh- 
bourhood of Spa. 
Our trip had lasted 
nearly thirteen hours. 

The population of 
the district had never 
seen a balloon so 
near, and our arrival 
roused the country- 
side. The people 
came running from 
every direction, yell- 
ing and gesticulating, 
and scarcely had the 
car touched earth 
when it was sur- 
rounded so closely by 
a crowd of peasants 
that it was impossible 


Fwm a Pfcflfcj. by JVo/eaaor SMinp, Park, 

for Godard to make proper 
arrangements for landing. 
By dint of frightful gri- 
maces and abuse, he in- 
duced them to draw hack 
sufficiently to enable him 
to make fast, and then 
my companions were 
obliged to protect me : 
for the women, and even 
some of the men, came to 
touch me my hair, my 
hands, my face, and my 
clothes — to make sure 
that I was really alive ! 

Ernest Flammarion 
alighted first. " I am very 
happy,' 1 he said, " to have 
been up in a balloon, but 
I don't think I shall go 

As for my husband, 
his persistent passion for 
ballooning is well known ; and as lor myself, 
I have made two more aerial voyages with 
him, and I would be glad to make a thousand. 
One gets, of course, very little of common 
luxuries in a balloon. There is just a car of 
basket-work, and a wooden plank for a seat. 
The knees must serve for a table, and the head 

rests on the edge of 

the car when one sits 
and rests. The bench 
will hold only two at 
a time, and even the 
two find it a tight fit. 
Of course, it is im- 
possible to cook in a 
balloon, for anything 
in the nature of fire 
would produce an 
instant blow-up, and 
a scattering of the 
whole expedition to 
the four winds. The 
food one takes con- 
sists of cold meat, 
bread, fruit, eggs, and 
perhaps salad - pre- 
pared beforehand, M, 
I'lammarion carried 
his instruments as 
usual - his barome- 
ters, telescopes, ther- 
mometers, and the 
rtst on his wedding 
trip, and made scien- 
tific observations and 
/ , m Q no* * rvo/, „, , 1 notes from first to last 






A Peep into " Punch." 

By J. Holt Schooling. 

[The Proprietors of "Punch " have given special permission to reproduce the accompanying illustrations. This 
is the first occasion when a periodical has been enabled to present a selection from Mr, Punch's famous pages.] 

Part I. — 1841 to 1849. 

R. PUNCH has, perhaps, 
never given a better proof of 
his ability to gauge the public 
mind of this country than 
that contained in the follow- 
ing lines, quoted from the 

issue dated November 5, 1898: 

[From Mr. Punch's " Vagrant."] 

Dear Punch, — I am not one to bell* w, 
Nor am I much on bloodshed bent ; 

I'm not a tearing Jingo fellow, 
All fuss, and froth, and discontent. 

\Here follmv same verses relating 
to political affairs, and then come 
the lints printed below. J. H. S.] 

We have another, sterner matter — 
The Frenchman posted on the Nile. 

tion, and Punch's neat verses just quoted 
give an excellently succinct and pithy ex- 
pression to the feeling of the average peace- 
loving Briton, who has become quite weary 
of being diplomatically played with by France 
in our colonial affairs, and who was, and is, 
quite ready to " take off his coat" 

Not his to reason ? True ! I like 
His skill to act, his pluck to dare. 
I'd sooner cheer him, Far, than strike 
him — 
But why did others send him there? 
In truth, -they did not mean to please 

us » 
They must have realised with joy 

That Marchand on the Nile must 

tease us, 

And sent him merely to annoy. 

So be it then : we know what's what 
And what the Frenchmen would be 
Though Major Marchand's on the 
spot now, 
He s got to pack and go— that's flat. 
We're tired of gracefully conceding, 
Tired, too, of jibe and jeer and 
flout ; 
Our answer may show lack of breed- 
But there it is — a plain "Get out." 

If one should, thinking I am weak, 
Smite me on one cheek black and 
I'm told to turn the other cheek, Sir, 
But not both cheeks and forehead 
Year in, year out, they've tried to 
spite us, 
We've borne it with a sorry grin ; 
And now— well, if they want to fight 
Coats off", and let the fun begin ! 

Punch published these 
lines just before Lord 
Salisbury announced at 
the Mansion House 
dinner, given in honour 
of Lord Kitchener on 
November 4, that France 
had come round to our 
view of the Fashoda quesy 

Digitized by V_ 



& a — ■*-+* y 





^O /i*JV 










The preceding illustration of Mr. Punch's 
terse and true expression of public opinion 
is the most recent that can now be given, but 

as one looks through the pages of the iij 
Volumes of Punch-, which bring this famous 
periodical to the end of the year 1897, one 
notices many other 
examples of Mr, 
Punch's acute discern- 
ment and pithy expres- 
sion of the public mind, 
which have been step- 
pinf-stones of fame to 
him during his long 
life of nearly sixty 
ycirs, quite apart from 
the weekly dish of good 
things offered by Mr, 
Punch to his public. 

Thanks? to the kind- 
ness of Messrs. Brad- 
bury and Agnew, the 
proprietors of Punchy 
I am able to give to 
the general public 
some of the pleasure 
that comes from the 
possession of a com- 
plete set of Punch. In 
reading one's Punch 
the pleasure is much 
enhanced by Mr. M. 
PL Spielmann's most 
admirable book, "The 
History of Punch" 
\Casself and Company \ 
Limited, 1895], for Mr. 
Spiel ma tm is probably 
the best living authority 
on this subject, and his 
re searches , which ex- 
tended over four years, 
enable the ordinary 
Punch - lover to find 

many points of great interest [specially in 
the early Volumes] which, without Mr Spiel- 
man n's book, might be passed over without 
notice. Some of the Punch engravings now 
shown have been found by the aid of Ml 
Spiel man n J s book t which is a thoroughly 
reliable and quite indispensable Text-Book 
on Punchy while, on other points, I have 
been privileged to consult Mr, W, Lawrence 
Bradbury and Mr* Philip L. Agnew as well 
as Mr. Spielmann himself. 

When the Queen came Lo the throne there 
was no Punch, He was conceived in cir- 
cumstances of much mystery, for many have 
claimed the honour of his paternity. The his- 
torian of Punch lias devoted a lung chapter 
to this matter of Punch's paternity, and has 
judicially weighed the evidence for or against 
each claimant, Mr. Spielmann writes: — 

Vet all hough it was not * . , . Henry May hew 
who was I he actual initiator nf Punchy it was unques- 



Tmi si rrT*T[QM. 







the year r87o, 
" Mr. Punch : His 
Origin and 
Career M ; but Mr. 
Bradbury told me 
that many of the 
statements about 
Punch in this 
pamphlet arc erro- 
neous, although 
tht: document is 
an exact copy of 
the original in 
Mr, Bradbury's 
possession, which 
happens just now 
to 1n_ packed away 
in a warehouse, 
and so cannot be 

It is interesting 
iu so; in No. 1 
that the name 
Punch was substi- 
tuted for the 
out title, 
Fun /' 

It has 

been sug- 
that the 
title thus cut short 
in favour of the 
single word Punch 
was to have been 
" The Funny Dogs 


ttoofthip he to whom the whole credit be longs of 
having developed Land el Is 1 specific idea of a 
"Charivari," and of its conception in the form it 
took. Though not the absolute nulhor of its e\ist 
ence, he was certainly the author of its literary and 
artistic l>eing, and to that degree, as lie was wont to 
claim, he was \U founder. 

Thus, the opinion of the best authority is 
that Henry May hew and Kbenezer Landells 
were the real founders of Punch. 

Early in 1841, after several discussions 
between the members of the first staff of 
Punchy the original pros] hit us uas drawn up 
by Mark Lemon. The first page of this 
three-page foolscap document is shown in 
reduced facsimile in illustration No. t of this 
article. An excellent facsimile, on the 
original blue foolscap paper, is bound up in 
a little anonymous pamphlet published in 


HERE once lived a Ling in Ar- 
menia, whose »am* *u Poof- 
|]ee-Sbaw; he wma called by hi* 
people, and the rest of the world 
who happened to hear of him, 
jiuhberdust, or. the Poet, found- 
ing hu greatest £lory p LLLb Bul- 
wer - Khan* Moncktoon- Alilncs- 
Sahib, Rogvr*-S*m- Jlsnaw df r, 
and other lords of the English 
Court, not bo much on hit poa- 
•cttionit, hii ancient rue t or hh 

fersonal beauty (alt which, 'lit 
Down, these frank «min pot 
■eat), u upon bii talent for po- 
etry, which was in truth amazing 
Kb wai not, like other so- 
fereigna, proud of his. prowes* 
in arm«, fond of invading hoa. 
tile counlriea, nr K at any rale, of reviewing his troop* whin im hostile 
country was at hand, but lored Letter? all hia ldo long. It w« 
saio, that, at fourteen t he had copied the Shah-Nomch ninety -nim 1 time?, 
and, at i :it early age of twelve, could repeat the Koran backward*. Tim- 
he gained the moat prodigious power of memory ; and it in related, of htm, 
that a Frank merchant mice coming to his Court, with a poem by Butwrr- 
Khan calEed the Siamse-Gemine* (ur, Twin* of Siam}, His Majesty, Pfluf- 
Alice, without understanding a word of the language in which that in- 
cona parable epic was written, nevertheless learned, it off a and hy the mere 
force of memory, could repeat erery ain&Je word of it. 

Now, all gn^a Hit) have choir weaknesses; and King Foef-Allee, T am 
sorry to My, had hi*. He wished to past for a poet. And not having a 
apark of originality in his composition, nor able to string two verses Tq- 
■Kt hiC , liquid, with the Ulutuat gravity, repeat yuu a sonnet of llatixnr 
■SaaJ^ej whioU the simju'ring^ courti ers applandi-d aa if it wr re hi* uwb. 

5. — TUB cn»JMF,NCKMKNT ,,f "' 

button fcv TriACrik-K^v, 

SKETCH- il+i. =' 

TNI Klksl 

LirtkAkV liiniki- 








with Comic Tales," and the prospectus ends 
with the words, " Funny dogs with comic 
tales." The price was written "Twopence," 
although the price of Punch has always been 

As regards the sudden change of title to 
Punch — a change made, as we see from the 
facsimile, while Mark Ixjrnon was in the 
very act of writing the title — Mr, Spielrnann 
has recorded that there are as many versions 
as to the origin of Punch's name as of the 
origin of the periodical itself. 

H odder declares I hat it was Mayhew's sudden 
inspiration. Last asserted that when ** somebody " at 
the Edinburgh Casih in ee ling spoke of the paper, 
like a good mixture of punch, being nothing without 
Lemon, Ma) hew caught at the idea and cried, "A 
capital idea 1 Well call it Pumh ! " 

There have been many other claimants to 
the distinction of having thought of the title 
** Punch," which is certainly an infinitely 
better title than " Funny Dogs with Comic 
Tales" and much better than "The Funny 
Dogs," which I suggest may have been the 
title Mark Lemon began to write, judging 
from the place on the paper {f^-H?** >)> 

where he began with the 

words, " The Fun ■" ; 

for if he had intended to 
write the longer title, '* The 
Funny Dogs with Comic 
Tales/ 5 he must have run 
the last part of this long 
title too far to the right of 
his paper to be consistent 
with the symmetrical posi- 
tion given to his other 
headings, etc., on the sheet 
of foolscap : a practised 
writer unconsciously allows 
enough s[mce for the sym- 
metrical setting out of his 
head-lines, etc., and that 
Mark Lemon was a so- 
cially practised writer is 
very clearly shown by 
inspection of this interest- 
ing facsimile. 

The first number of 
Punch came out on the 
17 th July, 1841, at 13, 
Wellington Street, Strand. 
There was a good demand 
for it, two editions of five 
thousand copies each being 
sold in two days. This 
demand was caused by ad- 
vertising in various ways, in- 
cluding the distribution of 
100,000 copies of a printed 
prospectus that was nearly identical with the 
draft whose first page has been shown here. 


A pbivatb tetter from Hinder ststes that precisely at twelve 
minutes to eleven in the morning on the ninth of the proem tfuiUU 
ber. hit Majesty Kinp Erj^fat wu suddenly attacked by a violent 
tU of bJne devils. All the court doctors were immediately sum 
moncd, and as immediately dismissed . by hit Majesty, who sent 
for the Wiiind of the North (recently appointed royal astrolnger). to 
divine the mytlCTLpiii cause of this so Hidden mHsnctioly. Jit ft IriOC 
the mystery waa solved— Queen Victoria w was happily delivered of 1 
Prince!" Hit Majesty wai immediately assisted to his chamber— 
put to bed —the curtain*, drawn— all the royll household ordered to 
wear lint dip pent — the one knocker to the palace wa» carefully lied up 
—and (on L departure of cur courier) half a load of itraw wa* 
already drnosiled beneath the window of the royal chamber. The 
aeniindf on duly were prohibited from even sneezing, under pain of 
death* and all things in and about the palace, to u*c a bran new simile, 
were silent ai the grave ! 

" Whilst there w» only the Princess Royal there were many hope?. 
There wu hope from severe, leelh me — hone from measles— hope from 
hooping-eoush— but with the addition of a Prince of Wales, the 
hopci pf Hanover are below par" But we pause. We will mi 
further invade the sanctity of the sorrows of a Ling ; merely observing, 
that what makes his Majesty very savage, makes hundred* of thou, 
■and* "of Englishmen mighty pud, There are nnw two cradles 
between the Crown of England and the White Horse of Hanover, 

We have a Prince of Wales ! Whilst, however, England is throw- 
ing up its million caps in rapture at the advent, Irt it not be forgotten 
to whom we owe ihe royal baby. In the clamourausness of our joy 
the iWl would have escaped us, had we not received a letter from 
Colonel Sr*THOHr» who aaaores ua that we owe » Prince of Wales 
en li rely to the present cabinet ; had the Whigs remained in office. 
1I1 1- infanr wmild jih-hmHy hsM been a \t\t\ _ 

7.— THK nRnMry^yfPpF r WB l PmNCE OF W^LES* \%^U 





to ul - row 

htHlv.-^m^n t**J tm the liWlJ I hfcffaMfcvw 
* <U*4nin •*•* link t*jt***M «. ™ i tall fr* «J **j*t, 

^nv mail d hia 1 w dn>n&| but kUwj : i in bin 
Inlliilibr UHhI Ft * ^* 


From the first Volume of Punch I have 
dwsen the five pictures here numbered 2, 3, 
4, 6, and 7. No, 2 is the first picture in 
iWA, a distinction that 
gives importance to this 
fink sketch [the same size 
as the original] of a broken- 
down man at work on the 
tread -mill By the first 
picture, i mean the first 
thai ttas printed on the 
numbered pages of Punch 
— Jhis b on page 2 of 
YuL I.— for the Iniroduc- 
tm contained three wood- 
cats, and there was the 
outside wrapper — of which 
I shall speak later, But 
Mi little cut in No, 2 is 
fully the first of Mr. 
lunch s famous gallery of 

black-and-white art. It 

*& drawn by William 

Xtvman, and this is one 

tf his socalled " blaekies * 

-little silhvuettes that were 

paid for at the rate of 

t^hieen shillings per 

Sfl. 3 is the first of 

Mr Punch's long series 

t cartoons. This was 

tone by A- S. Kenning, 

*nd it makes a much nicer 

picture in its present re^ 

freed size than in its 

original large size, where 

the work is too coarse in 

tature. In the forties, 

reproducing an 
artist's work to any 
scale; the work had 
to be cut on the 
wood - block and 
shown the same 
size as the original 
drawing. Hence, 
in a weekly paixr 
such as Punch, 
there was often 
not much time to 
spend on the wood- 
engraving, and so 
many of the draw- 
ings, especially the 
early ones, are 
wanting in finish. 
Picture No. 4 is the first by famous John 
Leech —Mr. Punch's first great artist and 
in addition to the signature "John Leech" 


ftfMflt *f l*f djmvrciig iter rrt*"nj tn k#ioaa. Y\i *r» *t I ic<rt 
ntmkm %Mj htlM CT Ikm thH ytfimmm, mm4 urn jvr* ub*4#0je Mrrknl U 
emammaAt J ar m JHiLUin. 

M.. — i wwJJitt mint ■ f*k>*7 « *Mt i* nuli* * tvw b«i dnmjif* 
*r ttH mmmm mmI*C**T U **l J fcf* HMl i ur i AM. ni*l bavin ibi1m| 
lilii fakf pi mod m*k« it wwHt mi w**. 


were no ingenious 

photographic processes for 





Origin a I Tram ' ' 



T*t n-«j»rtj:TG orrrca, 

u it ippwred wbilst erieculiug the cliannipg *ir of—* Coma to th«* 
jellow iind*, 1 " 


at the bottom of the block, there is in the 
middle of the design the curious sign-manual, 
•a leech in a bottle, which John Leech often 
used to mark his work. This first design by 
Leech was in the fourth number of Punch, 
August 7, 1 84 1, 

the cartoon, are the title of " a MS. drama, 
called the 'Court of Victoria/ " on page 
90 of Volume I. of Punchy which com- 
mences t— 


\Hir Majesty discovered sitting thoughtfully at an 
esirii&ire. ] 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 

Lord Cmambkrlain : May it please your Majesty, 
a letter from I he Duke of Wellington. 

THE QUBSN (opens the letter) : Oh ! a person for 
the vacant place of Premier— show the bearer in, my 
lord . [Exit Lord Chamberlain. ] 

The Queen {muses) : Sir Robert Peel — I have 
lit anl that name lie fore, as connected with my family. 
If I rem em lie r rightly he held the situation of adviser 
to the Crown in I tie reign of Uncle William, and was 
discharged lor exacting a large discmint on all the 
State receipts ; yet Wellington is very much interested 
in his favour* Etc + , etc, etc. 

In facsimile No. 7 we see the first 
mention in Punch of the Prince of Wales. 

and its title 
" Foreign Affairs " 
has reference to 
the groups of 
foreign refugees 
who at that time 
were specially 
numerous in Soho 
and Leicester 
Square — places 
that even nowa- 
days are charac- 
terized by the 
presence of 
numerous and not 
too desirable 

The facsimile in 
No. s is from the 
commencement of 
Thackeray's first 
literary contri- 
bution to Punch, 
and the sketch 
which forms the 
initial letter T is 
also by Thackeray, 
Mr, Spielmann 
says this sketch is 

" undoubtedly " by Thackeray ; the full con- 
tribution is on page 254 of Volume IL 

The cartoon shown in No. 6 contains the 
first picture of Queen Victoria in Punch, and 
it represents Sir Robert Peel sent for by the 
Queen to form an Administration in place 
of the beaten Ministry of Lord MellHHime. 
This was in the autumn of 184], The words, 
The Letter of Introduction, at the bottom of 

Digitized by G< 



" Simrjbm V mil I* U ll—H br w+wf h rail L* Hi. E*p -A m gml cw D .. rinnt, vkufc 

fi« H. P— u Tn* Sro« D 0X7 l. Tni Fni 

t rv.. J:'lll 

L«ni> S. 

-U 3— uftt 


It is the first part of a full-page article on 
page 222 of Volume L, which records the 
birth of the Prince on November 9, 1841, 
and which also refers to the disappointment 
caused to the King of Hanover by the birth 
of the Queen's second child. Punch writes : 
14 There are now two cradles between the 
Crown of Kn gland and the White Horse 
of Hanover," How many British Royal 




"cradles" are 
there now be- 
tween the two 
things named by 
Punch ? 

This comical 
sketch in No. 8 
was* I suspect, 
suggested to Mr, 
Punch by one of 
the many offers 
of unsolicited 
" outside M con- 
tributions which 
have always been 
severely discour- 
aged, Mr. Punch 
prefers to rely 
upon his own 
staff, although he 
is always on the 
alert for fresh 
talent, and 
amongst the 
clever men who 
have thus been 
invited to contri- 
bute to Punch are 
Mr. H. W. Lucy 
("Toby, M,P."), 
Mr. R. C. Leh- 
man n (who wrote 
" The Adven- 
tures of Picklock 

Holes "), Mr. Bernard Partridge (the brilliant 
successor to Mr* du Maurier), and Mr. Phil 

We see in No, 9 
the first Punch pic- 
ture of the Prince of 
Wales, This cartoon 
was drawn by Kenny 
M eadows, The 
Queen is standing at 
the left of the infant 
Prince, and points to 
the first tooth, the 
doctor blows a toy- 
truni[>et and offers 
some soldiers, while 
the lady who kneels 
is offering a baby's 
coral with a Punch's 
head as its chief 

No. to is a very 
clever sketch of " The 
Whistling Oyster/ A 
full account of this 


M-4TU Wsuj^ra. V«i '■* t*t H * H** H Ul HP, 

Kinn Jqh'iui. Am I 1 

M lucm. WftU4ft*fML Vh, )h in. 

LI *rru+ Jwwillm. tft, Ui I I 



SUppOS L tltlOUS 

discovery is given 
on page 142-3 
of Volume V. of 
Punchy in the 
year 1 843, and 
this curiosity was 
stated to be " in 
the possession of 
Mr* Pearkes of 
Vinegard Yard, 
opposite the 
gallery door of 
Drury Lane 
Theatre. w 

The cartoon in 
No. ii is the first 
by another of 
Mr. Punch's 
great guns — the 
famous Richard 
Doyle- This ap- 
peared on March 
16, 1844; and 
M The Modern 
Sisyphus ? ' is Sir 
Robert Peel, 
then Premier, 
seen in the task 
of rolling up the 
great stone 
[Daniel O'Con- 
nell, the Irish 
orator, who was 
then agitating for the repeal of the union 
between Ireland and Great Britain], while Lord 

John Russell and 
others represent 
11 The Furies " who 
are watching Peel's 
unavailing exertions. 
The sign-manual at 
the right of this car- 
toon — a dicky-bird 
perched on a D- 
was often used by 
Richard Doyle, and 
may be seen on the 
No. 1 1 

. Y**.p*4**. 

>tj.»rn iwmih 

\\ t .,,, . *i 0.1 1 >, ,k-. Urn' 

[H«uu- Ami U~ t +*.'! f&i *f>r> fit \ 


If will be m (he ncvtltrlion cf ww i*ndcre thM 4 Imndsome t*d (whirli 
rurra oul to be m\ly a fishing-Aid iltrr all), *v* n liHJ* *luto Hg*> 
presented to tin Frinrc vf W*s.j>Ji P lln lUjfl Hi glim** feuis Label j had 
flrtnv capilA] B|»ort with ihh rod,, having sar^-tlid in c;i inuring m u i.lI ■ I 
his Main ma* * j»old fi«.h, ornr nt *hiirli ms as Li^> \a a dice njid weighed 
bix ounce** J I wot vvrjr near I r pulling the J'riltw ill-. 


i Q¥ THE IklNCfc Ol- 

wrapper of 
is the first 
by Doyle, it is not 
the first work he did 
for Punch, for Doyle 
commenced his asso- 
ciation with the paper 
by drawing comic 




Christmas num- 
ber of 1842. 

John leech's 
cartoon, in No, 
12, was pub- 
lished September 
14, 1844 ; the 
Prince de Join- 
ville was in com- 
mand of the 
French Navy, 
and there was 
some foolish talk 
in the French 
papers about an 
invasion of Eng- 
land The ex- 
pression of the 
l>uke of Welling- 
ton's face in this 
cartoon is simply 

perfect, as he stands with his hands in his 
pockets calmly looking at the threatening 


■ -*-" 

(Jf^ti j.Hj* — >WJ * liul* d*f. (U IM I *C »*"n". Tfti* 1k[V| tft* \\n 
ilt*ir l« Um uh qf fia*. 

Ijr 4«j I "tt ir*d !*■ !*», ind h* Jon I 

14. — A riCTL/RE Ul* IMNOC-UfCB. 1 9*5- 


Wi g,rc not ftmen| thou who like f?oiQR co + l & Hi? March 1 ■ f 
Intellect M the aid jog-trot ptce, lor we rather prefer running on nefort 
1o loitering bj th* iidr, ftnd. we bftv« coBftequcDti 1 / l*JW ft few strides id 
ftdvuH with GeogTftpaj> by famUbinjr * Map of Englftnd, 1* it * L| be 
in anathi-T >r«r or two. Our country will, of couth, never be in chuna, 
for iberv would be luchv ft getter*! bubbling up pf hetrt'a blood, and hjsI. 
ft bounding of fJrilbh bou.mi. u Mould effectually prevent ihml ; but 
though England will de*cr be in chuu, -he wiJl \*nUy boob be la tniiu. 
in cIildci: At the numeroufl new Railway proanectujea will testify. It ia 
bowled thftt the ipread of iUilwiyi wi]! shorten the lime *nd labour of 
In celling : but we ibalL foot) be unable La j»u anywhere without 
crateing the line.— which once used to be ey-inmierrd ft *rr) formidable 
undertAkiug, Wb cftn Onlj hj tbftt *e ought l& be Koine on rery Biuoulkil* , 
con*rteriug ihll gur country U being regularly tfuned Ouul vlie cud ul it 
to Lhe olber. 


Joinville, and 
quietly says to 
the Frenchman, 
"You're too 
good a judge to 
hit me, you are!" 
One is irresistibly 
reminded by this 
clever cartoon of 
a quite recent 
affair with our 
French neigh- 
bour, in which 
the relative posi- 
tions were not 
unlike those here 
shown, and to 
which the climax 
was [at any rate, 
up to date, No- 
vember, 1898] 
cartoon — And 

ft KICX TOUNQ MAN rent ft HCftLL rftXTT 


ay GOOgle 

the same as in Leech's 
fkey don't fight after all! 

No. 13 is 
from page 157 
of Volume 
VI L, October 
5> i844- It 
represents the 
Prince of 
Wales, then 
not quite three 
years old/ 4 cap- 
turing several 
of his Mam- 
ma's gold fish, 
one of which 
was as big as 
a dace, and 
weighed six 
ounces. It was 
very nearly 
pulling the 
Prince in," 

In the "In^ 
nocence ? ' pic- 
ture, No. 14, 
observe that 
the little dog 
Fid&i which is 
being sought 
by the lady, is 
just visible in 
the left coat- 
pocket of the 
Bill - Sikes- 
looking rough. 

The Railway Map of England, No, 1 
one of Mr,. Punch's prophecies that 
Original from 


Am wlW fcj. lm i*m4* I 

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Kh ]'*tl,T«ri li« riri tW, 
Am] lk-i| IninoJ Tcrj *■■ 

h-i« ll' 1 fthl HU I rimm i |4k* 

Dill m **U J ■-»!■*# tH»^i»l Wlw^i 

Wnt tim'd I* ili« Ti,;in itnN 

Oil -riant ft* nlM n Itrntr r» r u 
1 1 11 ilk nil (n pmi**r. 

I ■ ■> w - ■ , 1 . I ■ i * ■• I- . 

F#f M* fiw'l* hH (h» p*,J ■ 

Oh Ttoaur fui ! {A, Baitm Tuv ■ 

llan CchjIJ jntL Mfr* Itu- ko I 

1 •¥ m»I -uh *hiE h-LnJTa Brru#r. 

h'e * Ml i 

FSmc J-t ie iuL'J 


5* 1S 



OP I&45, 

become fact. It is in the issue 
of October n, 1845, and 
refers to the precipitate influx 
of new lines just then taking 
place. To us, nowadays, there 
is nothing remarkable in this 
Railway Map, which might be 
mistaken for a genuine railway 
map of England and Wales ; 
but in 1845, when this map 
was made by Mr. Punch, he 
no doubt intended it as a 
piece of satire. 

No, 16 introduces us to a 
very early Fundi - picture of 
Benjamin Disraeli [June, 
1845]; not the first, which 
was, Mr, Philip Agnew tells 
me, in the year 1844, but this 
is the more interesting picture 
of the two. Mr. Punch was 
sometimes very severe in his 
treatment of Disraeli, and this 
sketch with the accompanying 
verses is a good example of 
Punch's early satire. As re- 
gards Mr Punch's politics, it 
is interesting to quote the 
following words from " The 
History of Punch " : — 

"The Tabic" [U. f the weekly 
Pt&u h dinner-table at which the car" 
loom, etc, are discussed* — J* IL S*] 
has always shown an amalgam of 
Conservative and Lil)eral instincts 
ami leanings, although the former 
have never been, those of the " pre- 
dominant partner." The constant 
effort uf the Staff is lo \>c fair and 
| patriotic, and to su Inordinate their 
personal views to the general good. 


ti-t ■ A"j Uutol itw*i fcrr* ! J — I .fiv U :,| FaJiWf |kuJi p»p» mt* m tt* ||<ft "■ | 

i8.— one of MR. inch's rJsiUNt; tales. 1845. 

Digitized by Google 


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uid of ib* jiubIht or porajn*! ? ditf ut Lb* tbji^- Tlin S*cr*(xry it 

uinciiin£:i^i |n 1»; bi pittewljJIAe Lo novi'rw ik-pcHPLti ffwu ckred lo («n j 

though, vbtclier be pu icy in. in ou »j>uutici. wo li> out 



7 8 


For, whatever the public may think, neither Editor nor 
Staff is hound by any consideration to any party or 
any person, but hold themselves free to satirise or to 
approve ** all round," 

When No, 16 was published, Disraeli was 

the leader of the M Young England " party, 


/*pftfif|- "I -TILL 14V If BAT IT •■. Gollll***, 

reK«*T*jiiiihii b thi nrru, ¥"qm u*'i i»h 

*T NOir ; *n& IF *OT DOH^T LIST TV* -Hli* I G* 

AUG !•' H-l II IrVIUl* 

T** IHHIl Wl ***■ TO HK: 

i iDUNo T* « Ham 

OK, -in 1 hi iT «ni CUMUU, 


having some years previously been converted 
from a Radical into a Tory : hence the 
allusions contained in the lines below this 

In a later part of this article Mr, Punch's 



iCOVBURR 1847. 


treatment of Disraeli's great rival (Gladstone 
will be illustrated, 

The vivid " Portrait of the Railway Panic," 
by Doyle, No. 17, was 
published November 8, 
1845, and refers to the 
depression in railway- 
dividends then being 
caused by over-competi- 
tion in railway-promo- 
tion ; No, 20 also refers 
to the railway -schemes 
of that time, and is Mr. 
Punch's ironical notice 
[dated Sept cm ber 2 6 , 
1846] of u The Last New 
Railway Scheme," />,, the 
proposal for making an 
Underground Railway, 
which j as we here read, 
was scoffed at by Punch 
— "The Secretary is 
announced to be in 
attendance to receive de~ 
posits from eleven to two; 
though, whether he ^ets 
any is, in our opinion, 
ten to one." But imme- 
diately below these words 
Mr. Punch gives a sec- 
tional diagram of the 
Underground Railway as 
he conceived it, and it is 
not a bad shot at "A 
prophetic view of the 
subterranean railways/' 
As a matter of fact, the 
works for the now familiar 

Metropolitan (Under- 
1 UnqinaTTrom 

POVLE- 1B48, 




Qid (kniUrrta.%. Mm W*ftea. TVs Autken, 
Old Gtt]ik*wm " 1 *■ rgrrt to see ton occqpibis, hi PbR Him Wisain, with tiit thiuel utee 

PtWCH,' A HilLHiT li pgrr ^ FUCl. M HT OPINION,. HJfc JQlB. 1 ***** JOH E— PR?**." 
JVi« T. "Sq 1 UOULD THINK, Sri," 

014 tj<-*itman. ■« And ividh, m tou iwmi vao All nti coerbirerou or that tint, *wd th^t 
TWIT tu Csiiiim, Oliin, Atmemm, A Nj It Him, iro SticiiLlETfl* to i Mini 1 K*vt it fhqh the 


oc*c*ct their nriMoi-i Print. Tmm chie* part OP nsiK imcobb 4 pumyrp fJUMC Threatening 



ffRonf. * 5*jr-DUH I Sn tip* E '* [En*** tm A pA«t*. 


ground) Railway were commenced in i860 ; 
fourteen years after this ironical prophecy 
by Punch. 

No, 18 is one of John Leech's jokes on 
fishermen's tales, and No. 19 is another joke 
probably based on fact The amusing 
picture, No. 21, illustrating " The Rising 
Generation/' is also by John Leech. 

No. 22 is a curiosity. It was drawn by 
Thackeray and published on page 59 of 
Volume XIL, February 6, 1847. From that 
day to this, more than fifty years, no one has 
discovered the 
point of this joke by 
Thackeray, " The 
History of Punch " 
records that on the 
appearance of this 
sketch the "Man 
in the Moon" 
offered "a reward 

°f £s°° ar| d a free 
pardon n to anyone 
who would publish 
an explanation. 
The reward was 
never claimed. 

What dt>e$ this 
sketch mean ? Is 
the shorter female 
a servant caught in 
the act of trying on 

her mistress's best cap? 
But if so, why is the 
11 scene " placed in a room 
that seems to be a library 
and not a bedroom ? And 
is the object on, or near, 
the front of the taller 
woman's dress, the falling 
cap of the servant ? But if 
so, how does the servant's 
cap come to be falling as 
the figures are placed— 
there is no sign on the part 
of the servant [?] that she 
has just dropped the cap [?] 
from her left hand? This 
is truly a puzzle and will 
probably never be solved, 
although when one remem- 
bers that this was drawn by 
Thackeray, and passed, as 
one may suppose, by Mark 
Lemon, the Editor of Punch 
in the year 1847, both men of 
keen wit, it is scarcely possi- 
ble to think that this joke 
does not contain any point, 
A sketch of " Domestic Bliss H is shown in 
No. 23, and No. 24 is a picture by Richard 
Doyle of " Mr. John Bull after an attack of 
Income -Tax." This was published in the 
spring of 1848, and must I think have been 
the outcome of a then -recent smart from an 
ordinary income-tax payment by Mr. Punch, 
for on turning up the income-tax records I 
find that the rate was not unusually high in 
the year 1848, the tax being yd. in the jQ for 
the years 1846 to 1852. 

No, 25 was drawn by Thackeray, in 184S 

by K: 



36,— MORE EXWE£ff^talj^£|lf^,p|-| 




and the "Two Authors n at 
the left are portraits of 
Thackeray, who is reading 
the Sunday Times, and of 
Douglas Jerrold, who is 
leaning against the padded 
division of the railway 
compartment while both 
authors are listening to 
the denunciations of them- 
selves and of their fellow- 
Punchites which are being 
poured out by the reverend 
gentleman at the other 
end of the compartment 

Glancing at No*. 26 and 
27, we come to No. 28, 
which h one of Richard 
Doyle's very funny serial 
sketches, entitled 
" Manners and Customs of 
ye Knglyshe." This h one 
of the funniest, although, 
where all are so good, it 
is difficult to single out 


^eep65talkyi^ iN-^RfGfeUANres 

S3*- UV HICHAHIl DCJVLE. 1 84^. 

seen consulting T)r, Punch. There are now 
available one hundred and fifteen of these 
volumes, and actual experience of Dr. 
Punch's advice to his patient enables me to 
thoroughly indorse the soundness of the 
advice given by the wise and genial uld 
doctor of Fleet Street. 

27,— A 5TflHET>ARAW OF 1 B49. 

any one of this remarkably clever series. 
Every bit of this sketch, No. 28, is worth 
looking at ; the climbing positions of the 
deer-stalkers are most comical, and look at the 
two gillies holding back the dogs, and at the 
stag who is surveying the approaching attack. 
This was published September 22, 1849. 

When No. 29 was published there were 
only eleven (half-yearly) volumes of Punch 
available for use by the patient who is here 


*9,— A PlfcCli OF (itKlD ADVICE TSV UK. PUNCH* 1847, 

(To he continued,) 

by Google 

Original from 

From thb: French of 


HE mineral waters of Spinbronn, 
in Hundsruck, a few leagues 
from Pirmesans, formerly en- 
joyed an excellent reputation, 
for Spinbronn was the rendez- 
vous of all the gouty and 
rheumatic members of the Gorman aris- 
tocracy. The wild nature of the surrounding 
country did not deter the visitors, for they 
were lodged in charming villas at the foot of 
the mountain. They bathed in the cascade 
which fell in large sheets of foam from the 
summit of the rocks, and drank two or three 
pints? of the water every day* Dr. Daniel 
Haselnoss, who prescribed for the sick and 
those who thought they wore, received his 
patients in a large wig, brown coat, and 
ruffles, and was rapidly making his fortune. 

To-day, however, Spinbronn is no longer 
a favourite watering-place. The fashionable 
visitors have disappeared ; Dr. Haselnoss has 
given up his practice ; and the town is only 
inhabited by a few poor, miserable wood- 
cutters. All this is the result of a succession 
of strange and unprecedented catastrophes, 
which Councillor Bremen, of Pirmesans, 
recounted to me the other evening. 

"You know, Mr, Fritz/' he said, "that 
the source of the Spinbronn flows from a 
sort of cavern about 5ft, high, and from 10ft. 
to 15ft. across; the water, which has a tern- 

V 1. <WL-1, 


perature of 67deg. centigrade, is salt. The 
front of the cavern is half hidden by moss, 
ivy, and low shrubs, and it is impossible to 
find out the depth of it, because of the 
thermal exhalations which prevent any 

" In spite of that, it had been remarked for 
a century that the birds of the locality, 
hawks, thrushes, and turtle - doves, were 
engulphed in full flight, and no one knew of 
what mysterious influence it was the result. 
During the season of 1801, for some unex- 
plained reason, the source became more 
abundant, and the visitors one evening, 
taking their constitutional promenade on the 
lawns at the foot of the rocks, saw a human 
skeleton descend from the cascade. 

** You can imagine the general alarm, Mr. 
I nt/. It was naturally supposed that a 
murder had been committed at Spinbronn 
some years before, and that the \ictim had 
been thrown into the source* But the 
skeleton, which was blanched as white as 
snow, only weighed twelve pounds; and Dr. 
Haselnoss concluded that, in all probability, 
it had been in the sand more than three 
centuries to have arrived at that state of 

" Plausible as his reasoning was, it did not 
prevent many visitors leaving that same day, 
horrified t€*\_ha\"e_ drunk the waters. The 




really gouty and rheumatic ones, however^ 
stayed on, and consoled themselves with the 
doctor's version, But the following days the 
cavern disgorged all that !t contained of 
detritus ; and a veritable ossuary descended 
the mountain — skeletons of animals of all 
sorts, quadrupeds, birds, reptiles. In fact, 
all the most horrible things that could be 

" Then Haselnoss wrote and published a 
pamphlet to prove that all these bones were 
relics of the antediluvian world, that they 
were fossil skeletons* accumulated there in a 
sort of funnel during the universal Deluge, 
that is to say, four thousand years before 
Christ ; and, consequently, could only be 
regarded as stones, and not as anything 

u But his work had barely reassured the 
gouty ones, when one fine morning the 
corpse of a fox, and then of a hawk, with all 
its plumage, fell from the cascade. Impos- 
sible to maintain that these had existed 
before the Deluge, and the exodus became 

" * How horrible ! ' cried the ladies. * That 
is where the so-called virtue of mineral 
waters springs from. Better die of rheuma- 
tism than continue such a remedy/ 

"At the end of a week the only visitor left 
was a stout Englishman, Commodore Sit 
Thomas Hawerbrook, who lived on a grand 
scale, as most 
Englishmen do- 
He was tall and 
very stout, and of 
a florid com- 
plexion. His 
hands were liter- 
ally knotted with 
gout, and he 
would have drunk 
no matter what 
if he thought it 
would cure him. 
He laughed loudly 
at the desertion of 
the sufferers, in- 
stalled himself in 
the best of the 
villas, and an- 
nounced his inten- 
tion of spending 
the winter at 

Here Councillor 
Bremen leisurely 
took a large pinch 
of snuff to refresh 


his memory, and with the tips of his fingers 
shook off the tiny particles which fell on his 
delicate lace jaboL Then he w T ent on : — 

" Five or six years before the revolution of 
1789, a young doctor of Pirmesans, called 
Christum Weber, went to St. Domingo to 
seek his fortune. He had been very success- 
ful, and was about to retire, when the revolt 
of the negroes occurred. Happily he escaped 
the massacre, and w T as able to save part of 
his fortune. He travelled for a time in South 
America, and about the period of which 1 
speak, returned to Pirmesans, and bought 
the house and what remained of the practice 
of Dr. Haselnoss. 

" Dn Christian Weber brought with him 
an old negress called Agatha ; a very ugly 
old woman, with a flat nose, and enormous 
lips, She always enveloped her head in a 
sort of turban of the most startling colours ; 
and wore rings in her ears which reached to 
her shoulders. Altogether she was such a 
singular - looking rri-atinv, that the moun- 
taineers came from miles around just to 
look at her, 

"The doctor himself was a tall, thin 
man, invariably dressed in a blue swallow- 
tailed coat and leather breeches, He 
talked very little, his laugh was dry and 
nervous, and his habits most eccentric. 
During his wanderings he had collected a 
number of insects of almost every sj>ecies, 

and seemed to be 
much more inter- 
ested in them 
than in his pa- 
tients. In his 
daily rambles 
among the moun- 
tains he often 
found butterflies 
to add to his 
collection, and 
these he brought 
home pinned to 
the lining of his 

" Dr, Weber, 
Mr. Fritz, was 
my cousin and 
my guardian, and 
directly he re- 
turned to Ger- 
many he took 
me from school, 
and settled me 
with him at Spin- 
bronn. Agatha 
was a great friend 





of mine, though at first she frightened me, 
but she was a good creature, knew how to 
make the most delicious sweets, and could 
sing the most charming songs. 

"Sir Thomas and Dr. Weber were on 
friendly terms, and spent long hours together 
talking of subjects beyond my comprehension 
—of transmission of fluids, and mysterious 
things which they had observed in their 
travels. Another mystery to me was the 
singular influence which the doctor appeared 
to have over the negress, for though she was 
generally particularly lively, ready to be 
amused at the slightest thing, yet she 
trembled like a leaf if she encountered her 
master's eyes fixed upon her. 

" I have told you that birds, and even 
large animals, were engulphed in the 
cavern. After the disappearance of the 
visitors, some of the old inhabitants 
remembered that about fifty years before 
a young girl, Loisa Muller, who lived with 
her grandmother in a cottage near the 
source, had suddenly disappeared. She had 
gone out one morning to gather herbs, and 
was never seen or heard of again, but her 
apron had been found a few days later near 
the mouth of the cavern. From that it was 
evident to all that the skeleton about which 
Dr. Haselnoss had written so eloquently 
was that of the poor girl, who had, no doubt, 
been drawn into the cavern by the mysterious 
influence which almost daily acted upon 
more feeble creatures. What that influence 
was nobody could tell. The superstitious 
mountaineers believed that the devil inhabited 
the cavern, and terror spread throughout the 

" One afternoon, in the month of July, my 
cousin was occupied in classifying his insects 
and re-arranging them in their cases. He 
had found some curious ones the night 
before, at which he was highly delighted. I 
was helping by making a needle red-hot in 
the flame of a candle. 

" Sir Thomas, lying back in a chair near 
the window and smoking a big cigar, was 
regarding us with a dreamy air. The com- 
modore was very fond of me. He often 
took me driving with him, and used to like 
to hear me chatter in English. When the 
doctor had labelled all his butterflies, he 
opened the box of larger insects. 

" ' I caught a magnificent horn - beetle 
yesterday/ he said, 'th^ lueanus eervus of the 
Hartz oaks. It is a rare kind/ 

" As he spoke I gave him the hot needle, 
which he passed through the insect pre- 
paratory to fixing it on the cork. Sir 

Digitized by GoOglC 

Thomas, who had taken no notice till then, 
rose and came to the table on which the 
case of specimens stood. He looked at the 
spider of Guyana, and an expression of 
horror passed over his rubicund features. 

" ' There,' he said, ' is the most hideous 
work of the Creator. I tremble only to look 
at it.' 

" And, sure enough, a sudden pallor spread 
over his face. 

" * Bah ! ' said my guardian, ' all that is 
childish nonsense. You heard your nurse 
scream at a spider, you were frightened, 
and the impression has remained. But if 
you regard the creature with a strong micro- 
scope, you would be astonished at the 
delicacy of its organs, at their admirable 
arrangement, and even at their beauty.' 

"'It disgusts me/ said the commodore, 
brusquely. 'Pouff!' 

" And he walked away. 

" ' I don't know why/ he continued, ' but 
a spider always freezes my blood.' 

" Dr. Weber burst out laughing, but I felt 
the same as Sir Thomas, and sympathized 
with him. 

" c Yes, cousin, take away that horrid 
creature/ I cried. ' It is frightful, and spoils 
all the others.' 

" ' Little stupid/ said he, while his eyes 
flashed, * nobody compels you to look at 
them. If you are not pleased you can go.' 

" Evidently he was angry, and Sir Thomas, 
who was standing by the window regarding 
the mountains^ turned suddenly round, and 
took me by the hand. 

" ' Your guardian loves his spiders, Frantz/ 
he said, kindly. ' We prefer the trees and 
the grass. Come with me for a drive.' 

"'Yes, go/ returned the doctor, 'and be 
back to dinner at six.' Then, raising his 
voice, ' No offence, Sir Thomas/ he said. 

" Sir Thomas turned and laughed, and we 
went out to the carriage. 

" The commodore decided to drive him- 
self, and sent back his servant. He placed 
me on the seat beside him, and we started 
for Rothalps. While the carriage slowly 
mounted the sandy hill, I was quiet and sad. 
Sir Thomas, too, was grave, but my silence 
seemed to strike him. 

" ' You don't like the spiders, Frantz ; 
neither do I. But, thank Heaven ! there 
are no dangerous ones in this country. The 
spider which your cousin has in his box is 
found in the swampy forests of Guyana, 
which is always full of hot vapours and 
burning exhalations, for it needs a high 
temperature to support its existence. Its 



8 4 


immense web, or rather its net, would sur- 
round an ordinary thicket, and birds are 
caught in it, the same as flies in our spiders' 
webs. But do not think any more about it J 
let us drink a glass of Burgundy*' 

" As he spoke he lifted the cover of the 
seat, and, taking out a flask of wine, poured 
me out a full leathern goblet. 

" I felt better when I had drunk it, and we 
continued our way, The carriage was drawn 
by a little Ardennes pony, which climbed the 
steep incline as lightly and actively as a goat, 
The air was full of the murmur of myriads 
of insects. At our right was the forest of 
Rothalps. At our left was the cascade of 
Spinbronn ; and the higher we mounted, the 
bhier became the silver sheets of water 
foaming in the distance, and the more 
musical the sound as the water passed over 
the rocks, 

" Both Sir Thomas and I were captivated 
by the spectacle, and, lost in a reverie, allowed 
the pony to go on as he would. Soon we 
were within a hundred paces of the cavern of 
Spinbronn. The shrubs around the entrance 
were remarkably green. The water, as it 
flowed from the cavern, passed over 
the top of the rock, which was slightly 
hollowed, and there formed a small 
lake, from which it again burst forth 
and descended into the valley below. 
This lake was shallow, the bottom of 
it composed of sand and black peb- 
bles, and, although covered with a 
slight vapour, the water was clear and 
limpid as crystal. 

u The pony stopped to breathe. 
Sir Thomas got out and walked about 
for a few seconds. 

" * How calm it is/ he said. 

"Then, after a minute's silence, he 
continued : 4 Frantz, if you were not 
here, I should have a bathe in that 
lake J 

" ' Well, why not ? ' I answered. * I 
will take a walk the while. There 
are numbers of strawberries to be 
found a little way up that mountain. 
I can go and get some, and be back 
in an hour.' 

" £ Capital idea, Frantz. Dr. Weber 
pretends that I drink too much Bur- 
gundy ; we must counteract that with 
mineral water This little lake looks 

"Then he fastened the pony to 
the trunk of a tree, and waved his 
hand in adieu. Sitting down on the 
moss, he commenced to take off his 

v *oogle 

boots, and, as I walked away, he called 
after me : — 

41 * In an hour, Frantz.' 

" They were his last words. 

" An hour after I returned. The pony, 
the carriages and Sir Thomas's clothes were 
all that I could see. The sun was going 
down and the shadows were lengthening. 
Not a sound of bird or of insect, and a silence 
as of death filled the solitude. This silence 
frightened me. I climbed on to the rock 
above the cavern, and looked right and left. 
There was nobody to be seen. I called ; no 
one responded. The sound of my voice 
repeated by the echoes filled me with terror. 
Night was coming on. All of a sudden I re- 
membered the disappearance of Loisa Muller, 
and I hurried down to the front of the cavern. 
There I stopped in affright, and glancing 
towards the entrance, I saw two red, motion- 
less points, 

" A second later I distinguished some 
dark moving object farther back in the 
cavern, farther perhaps than human eye had 
ever before penetrated : for fear had sharpened 
my sight, and given all my senses an acute- 

'i saw Twgippgjrogfijjf^pjsn points." 




ness of perception which I had never before 

" During the next minute I distinctly heard 
the chirp, chirp of a grasshopper, and the 
bark of a dog in the distant village. Then 
my heart, which had been frozen with terror, 
commenced to beat furiously, and I heard 
nothing more. With a wild cry I fled, 
leaving pony and carriage. 

"In less than twenty minutes, bounding 
over rocks and shrubs, I reached my cousin's 

" ' Run, run/ I cried, in a choking tone, as 
I burst into the room where Dr. Weber and 
some invited friends were waiting for us. 
4 Run, run ; Sir Thomas is dead ; Sir Thomas 
is in the cavern,' and I fell fainting on the 

"All the village turned out to search for 
the commodore. At ten o'clock they re- 
turned, bringing back Sir Thomas's clothes, 
the pony, and carriage. They had found 
nothing, seen nothing, and it was impossible 
to go ten paces into the cavern. 

"During their absence Agatha and I 
remained in the chimney-corner, I still 
trembling with fear, she, with wide-open 
eyes, going from time to time to the window, 
from which we could see the torches passing 
to and fro on the mountain, and hear the 
searchers shout to one another in the still 
night air. 

" At her master's approach Agatha began 
to tremble. The doctor entered brusquely, 
pale, with set lips. He was followed by 
about twenty woodcutters, shaking out the 
last remnants of their nearly extinguished 

" He had barely entered before, with flash- 
ing eyes, he glanced round the room, as if in 
search of something. His eyes fell on the 
negress, and without a word being exchanged 
between them the poor woman began to cry. 

" ' No, no, I will not,' she shrieked. 

" ' But I will,' returned the doctor, in a 
hard tone. 

" The negress shook from head to foot, as 
though seized by some invisible power. The 
doctor pointed to a seat, and she sat down 
as rigid as a corpse. 

"The woodcutters, good, simple people, 
full of pious sentiments, crossed themselves, 
and I, who had never yet heard of the 
hypnotic force, began to tremble, thinking 
Agatha was dead. 

" Dr. Weber approached the negress, and 
passed his hands over her forehead. 

" * Are you ready ? ' he said. 

"'Yes. sir.' 

Digitized by Google 

" 'Sir Thomas Hawerbrook/ 

" At these words she shivered again. 

" ' Do you see him ? 

" ' Yes, yes,' she answ r ered, in a gasping 
voice, ' I see him.' 

"'Where is he?' 

" ' Up there, in the depths of the cavern — 
dead ! ' 

" ' Dead ! ' said the doctor ; ' how ? ' 

" ' The spider ! oh, the spider! ' 

"'Calm yourself,' said the doctor, who 
was very pale. 'Tell us clearly.' 

" ' The spider holds him by the throat — 
in the depths of the cavern — under the rock 
— enveloped in its web — Ah ! ' 

" Dr. Weber glanced round on the people, 
who, bending forward, with eyes starting out 
of their heads, listened in horror. 

" Then he continued : ' You see him ? ' 

" ' I see him.' 

" ' And the spider. Is it a big one ? ' 

" ' O Master, never, never, have I seen 
such a big one. Neither on the banks of 
the Mocaris, nor in the swamps of Konanama. 
It is as large as my body.' 

"There was a long silence. Everybody 
waited with livid face and hair on end. 
Only the doctor kept calm. Passing his 
hand two or three times over the woman's 
forehead, he recommenced his questions. 
Agatha described how Sir Thomas's death 

"'He was bathing "in the lake of the 
source. The spider saw his bare back from 
behind. It had been fasting for a long time, 
and was hungry. Then it saw Sir Thomas's 
arm on the w r ater. All of a sudden it rushed 
out, put its claws round the commodore's 
neck. He cried out, " Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu." 
The spider stung him and went back, and 
Sir Thomas fell into the water and died. 
Then the spider returned, spun its web 
round him, and swam slowly, gently back to 
the extremity of the cavern ; drawing Sir 
Thomas after it by the thread attached to its 
own body.' 

" I was still sitting in the chimney corner, 
overwhelmed with fright. The doctor turned 
to me. 

" ' Is it true, Frantz, that the commodore 
was going to bathe ? ' 

" ' Yes, cousin.' 

" ' At what time ? ' 

" ' At four o'clock/ 

" ' At four o'clock ? It was very hot then, 
was it not ? ' 

" 'Yes ; oh, yes.' 

" ' That's it. The monster was not afraid 
to come out then.' 1 £__ „ 

■_■ 1 M_|M I '.1 1 I l'_i 1 1 1 




" He spoke a few unintelligible words, and 
turned to the peasants. 

" i My friends/ he cried, * that is where 
the mass of debris and those skeletons come 
from. It is the spider which has frightened 
away your visitors, and ruined you ail. It is 

stopped The torches were lighted and the 
crowd advanced. The limpid water flowed 
over the sand, reflecting the blue light of 
the resinous torches, the rays of which 
illuminated the tops of the dark, overhang- 
ing pines on the rocks above us. 

' it rushed oirr and tut its claws around the cuaimijihjkh s nkck. 

there hidden in its web, entrapping its prey 
into the depths of the cavern, Who can say 
the number of its victims ? ' 

41 He rushed impetuously from the house, 
and all the woodcutters hurried after him, 

" t Bring fagots, bring fagots ! ' he cried. 

"Ten minutes later two immense carts, 
laden with fagots, slowly mounted the hill ; 
a long file of woodcutters followed, with 
hatchets on their shoulders. My guardian 
and I walked in front, holding the horses by 
the bridle ; while the moon lent a vague, 
melancholy light to the funereal procession, 

(t At the entrance of the cavern the cortege 

Digitized by Kj 

" i It is here you must unload,' said the 
doctor, 'We must block up the entrance 
of the cavern. 5 

" It was not without a feeling of dread 
that they commenced to execute his order. 
The fagots fell from the tops of the carts, 
and the men piled them up before the 
opening, placing some stakes against them to 
prevent their being carried away by the 
water, Towards midnight the opening was 
literally closed by the fagots. The hissing 
water below them flowed right and left over 
the moss, but those on the top were perfectly 

- Original from 




"Then Dr. Weber took a lighted torch, 
and himself set fire to the pile. The flames 
spread from twig to twig, and rose towards 
the sky, preceded by dense clouds of smoke. 
It was a \vild t strange sight* and the woods 
lighted by the crackling flames had a weird 
effect. Thkk volumes of smoke proceeded 
from the cavern, while the men standing 
round, gloomy and motionless, waited with 
their eyes fixed on the opening. As for me, 
though I trembled from head to foot, I could 
not withdraw my gaze. 

" We waited quite a quarter of an hour, 
and Dr, Weber began to be impatient, when 
a black object^ with long* crooked claws. 

11 Evidently driven by the heat, the spider 
had taken refuge in its den. Then, suffocated 
by the smoke, it had returned to the charge, 
and rusht-d into the middle of the flames. 
The body of the horrible creature was as 
large as a man's, reddish violet in colour, and 
most repulsive in appearance, 

"That* Mr. Fritz, is the strange event 
which destroyed the reputation of Spinbronn, 
I can swear to the exactitude of my story, 
but it would be imp9ssihle for me to give 
you an explanation. Nevertheless, admitting 
that the high temperature of certain thermal 
springs furnishes the same conditions of 
existence as the burning climate of Africa 

"one of the men threw his hatchet/ 

suddenly appeared in the shadow, and then 
threw itself forward towards the opening. 
One of the men, fearing that it would leap 
over the fire, threw his hatchet, and aimed at 
the creature so well that, for an instanr, the 
blood which flowed from its wound half- 
quenched the fire, but soon the flame revived, 
and the horrible insect was consumed. 

and South America, it is not unreasonable to 
suppose that insects, subject to its influence, 
can attain an enormous development. 

u Whatever may have been the cause, my 
guardian decided that it would be useless 
to attempt to resuscitate the waters of Spin- 
hronn ; so he sold his house, and returned to 
America with his negress and his collection." 

by Google 

Original from 

The Training Ship il Exmouih" 

By Dr, Ch« H. Leibbrand. 

Illustrated from Photographs taken under his direction &y A. and C Taylor t Photographers to the Qufen. 

EADER, have you been to 
Grays, the station next to 
historical Purfleet, on the 
London and Tilbury line to 
Southend ? If not, let me tell 
you that it is not a large place, 
nor a nice plate either. Still, this struggling 
township on the Thames is worth visiting. 
Almost within the shadow of its tiny red 
brick houses lies one of the finest institu- 
tions in England for the making of sailors, 
and soldiers, and citizens — for the making of 

Proceeding a short distance along the 
main street towards the river the traveller 
will be brought face to face with this civilizing 
centre. He will see a huge, bold, sturdy vessel 

officers still more eloquently testify to its 
intimate connection with the defences of the 
country— with the Navy and the Army, 
with the development of patriotism and 
citizenship. For, from this training ship 
have gone forth about 5,700 youths, well 
equipped for the struggle or existence, 
and not less well trained to battle with 
winds and waves and the treachery of oceans 
deep. Indeed, of these 5,700 no fewer than 
2, 1 06 went to swell the ranks of the Royal 
Navy ; 446 shipped as ordinary seamen ; 
1,385 as deck and cabin boys; 150 as 
apprentices, and 300 as assistant cooks and 
stewards. And again, within the same 
period, 900 have joined the Army as band 
boys ; whilst hundreds, once more, embarked 

EXMIH'1 11. 

riding proudly upon the ebbing and flowing 
tide, moored about a hundred yards off the 
shore. This splendid three-decker, of 3,106 
tons displacement and with a measurement 
of 220ft, by 59ft*, is London's training ship 

The vessel's ninety - one portholes still 
proclaim its original character - thaj; of a man- 
of-war ; even though her armament consists 
now of but two truck and two field pieces, 
instead of the ninety-one guns which should 
be mounted there. Its complement of 600 
(ads, its Captain-Superintendent, and staff of 

Digitized by Lt< 

with average fair success upon other occu- 
pations, taking to handicrafts, trades, and 
industries for which they received their first 
moral and souftd practical training on board 
this veteran three-decker. 

A large part of the striking prosperity 
which has attended the Exmauih is un- 
doubtedly due to the most competent 
Captain - Superintendent in Staff - Com- 
mander W. S. Bourchier, Entering the 
Navy in 1840, as a navigating midshipman 
on board the Impregnable^ this officer had* 
previous to his appointment to the Goliath 





cruise along the coast of Africa. 
With so thoroughly trained and 
experienced an officer in command 
the experi merit could, therefore, 
hardly fail to prosper. 

So successful, indeed, has been 
the training and other educational 
work carried on on hoard this 
splendid three-decker that the last 
report of Admiral Bosanquet, than 
whom as Inspecting Captain-General 
of Naval Training Ships there can 
hardly be a better authority, may 
be taken as typical. In this report 
he says :— 

The training ship Exmauih for Ixjys is 
in most excellent order, The ckills and 
in st met ion gi .are exceedingly well tang hi, 
and the comfort and wdl-lieing of ihe 
Jjids is sedulously alt ended to. Captain 
BourchWs arrangement s arc admirable 
and conscientiously carried on I hy a very 
able slaffof officers. Ir is ft modti train- 
ing 1 ftip+ 

And a model training ship the 
Exmohih truly is ; the brief history 
of which, who knows? may be a not 
unimportant factor in the making 
of British history. To appreciate 
this paradox, reader, you must see 
this tiny, yet withal so manly, crew 
as it was a short time ago my good 

in 1870, passed through a school of excellent 
training. After successive services as navi- 
gating sublieutenant, first in the Mediter- 
ranean, on board the Polyphemus ; then on 
the south-east coast of America, on the brigan- 
tme Griffon he 
bad {upon being 
promoted navigat- 
ing lieutenant) 
held the command 
of the Myrtle, 
steamer-tender to 
the flagship, for 
close on twelve 
years. And this 
^ried and instruc- 
tive career Captain 
Bourchier had 
been able to conv 
plete by a further 
>mice as navigat- 
ing lieutenant to 
the then Captain, 
now Admiral, Sir 
Anthony Hoskins, 
on board the 
Ithra, engaged 
upon a lengthy 


fortune to see them when I visited the vessel, 
piloted by that genial assistant clerk to the 
Metropolitan Asylums Board, Mr, John 
MalletL The notice informing the Captain- 
Superintendent of our intended visit, 1 after 





wards learned, had reached him but a few 
minutes previous to our arrival Yet the 
moment we appeared on the landing-stage, 
the wind carried to us five notes of an 
assembly call This was the only distinct sign 
of life on board. But scarcely had it passed by 

when, as if by magic, the cutters and whaler^ 
the gigs and pinnaces, and the launches of 
the Ex mouth were manned and afloat ; 
when on the main and upper decks, and on 
the bowsprit, and up the fore, main, and 
rnizzen masts swarmed Liliputians to their 





posts, every tiny man ready to "do his 
duty.* Though, to be sure, it is not 
j.n easy duly these sailor boys have to 
perform, for the routine and discipline on 
board the Ex mouth is as that on board a 
man-of-war, tempered only by a consideration 
of the youth of the crew and by the maxim 
that "kindness 
leads farther than 

From the early 
morning, wheri the 
bugle calls for the 
spady slmging up 
of their hammocks 
on the orlop-deck, 
tBl late in the 
evening, when: the 
general retreat is 
sounded and the 
hammocks are 
once more un- 
slung, the various 
boat - crews and 
classes are kept 
going. Yet not 
as fancy's whim 
suggests; maxims 
evolved from 
sound experience 
inspire the educa- 

tional system on board. For instance, cleanli- 
ness is said to be next to godliness. The two, 
again, are known to be most conducive to 
discipline. At the same time, the strictest 
observance of these three precepts is recog- 
nised to be absolutely essential to the weli- 
being of a large floating establishment In 


9 2 



conformity with these truisms, thorough 
ablutions and thoughtful religious practices, 
such as morning and evening prayers, at which 
both officers and crew attend, are, therefore, 
as prominent features of the training on the 
Exmouth as is the 
excellent discip- 
line maintained 
on hoard the 
vessel. The ablu- 
tions, however, 
are particularly 
worthy of men- 
tion ; the process 
is so original. 
There is a huge, 
broad tank - bath 
in the lavatory ; 
not much .smaller 
than a usual-sized 
swimming bath. 
Thither the lads 
proceed in march- 
ing order, though, 
of course, without 
any baggage, how- 
ever slight; and 
promptly start to 
give themselves a 

wholesome shampoo with carbolic soap. 
Being thus lathered they plunge head fore- 
most into the tank. Diving straight through 
its full width, with wonderful agility they 
then bound over its anything but low 
side, landing —at attention before the 
officer an watch, ready for inspection as 

to their outward 

This agility, this 
precision in the 
action and decis- 
ion in the conduct 
of the boy-sailors 
and marines, is 
noticeable at 
whatever occupa- 
tion they may be. 
Such perfection is 
to a great extent 
due to the lads' 
instruction in 
gymnastics and 
athletics. As the 
several illustra- 
tions show, in 
these they pass 
through a most 
and systematic 
course. They are trained in whatever may 
tend towards the development of their 
muscles. So efficiently are the boys taught, 
that those whom I have seen at my visit go 
through most difficult exercises on the hori- 

locatitjc; ihe mucK-tiUNSt. 

zontal and parallel bars and on the spring- 
board, 1 would safely have compete with 
the best model sections or Masterriegen 
of Germany's leading gymnastic societies. 
Yet the Fatherland is the home and, 
as it we^e> the. . academy of systematic 

ph> ^^fVoMiS t tf ctory '' 00 ' * 



rc^ ; 

n * 


* M " ♦ 

4 ft? 

- f , 

■— / i 



not truly astonishing, is the perfect manner 
in which the Liliputians on board the 
Exmouth take to their musketry, bayonet, and 
cutlass drill. Reader, you need but look at 
the illustrating snap-shots to feel that, when 
grown up or even before, these lads will 
prove men and warriors bold and true should 
occasion arise. Indeed, as it is, when 
witnessing the earnestness and skill with 

which each com- 
mand of the drill- 
masters is exe- 
cuted, you soon 
fancy to be face to 
face * with a com- 
pany of marines — 
veterans in the 
exercise of arms 
— although, in 
fact, they are a 
company of mere 
boys, rescued from 
the streets and 
recruited from the 
workhouses. And 
as veterans in arms 
they behave at 
gun drill. At 
mounting or dis- 
mounting field- 
pieces, at charg- 
ing or discharging 
the truck - guns, they are equally smart. 
How well the crews are trained, both 
in the use of rifle, cutlass, and cannon, 
and in their more extensive and complicated 
application to military tactics, is demon- 
strated by the photos, illustrating a sham- 
fight between a party of sailors and an 
imaginary enemy. It can be seen at a glance 
that the proceedings are looked upon by the 


Hjr iqi r — — 





, boys as something more than an amusing 
trttermezzo in their daily routine; with them 
it is a serious lesson to be learned seriously. 

However, the champions of disarmament 
and the advocates of peace must not assume- 
that the training ship's youthful crew is 
reared up only in the spirit of militarism, 
and instructed only in the manifold defen- 
sive and offensive uses of the weapons of 
war. The picture showing the boy sailors 
and marines engaged upon Samaritan work > 
carried out with a promptitude and circum- 
spection of which a master in surgery need 
not be ashamed, would already disprove 
their assumption. Yet, they may feel further 
assured that these prin- 
ciples of assisting the suffer- 
ing &re not confined in 
their educational operation 
to the mere bandaging and 
nursing of the wounded. 
These are inculcated into 
the mind and heart of 
the lads by many other 
methods, and applicable to 
many and far different situ- 

For, hand in hand with 
their military training, the 
wards of the Metropolitan 
Asylums Hoard receive the 
benefit of moral training 
and a sound elementary 
education under the able 
direction of Mr. W. Hol- 

lam by, the head 
schoolmaster on 
board the vessel 
This education, in 
spite of a rather 
small stall, con- 
sidering the hun- 
dreds of pupils, 
is not only equal 
to that provided 
at any Metropoli- 
tan Board School, 
but it aspires, jus- 
tifiably, because 
s uccessfully 
even beyond — at a 
higher, more com- 
prehensive, more 
thorough - going 
instruction, excel- 
lent though teach- 
ing in London's 
Board Schools fre- 
quently is. 
Nor is the industrial side forgotten in the 
system of training on the Exmauth* Tailor- 
ing, carpentering, [minting, sail and net- 
making, and so on, are part of the trades the 
boys have to learn and to prove efficient at. 
Indeed, most of the extensive and often 
difficult repairs constantly necessary to the 
three-decker, to her many boats, and to the 
boys' own outfits, are done by the latter, 
and done by these youngsters remarkably 
well, as, reader, you will see for yourself, 
if your good fortunes ever ship you to the 
Exmoulh. I say advisedly "good fortunes," 
because there is a healthiness, a breezmess 
about the ship, about its captain, officers, 






and numerous crew which truly smacks of 
the free, wholesome, bracing sea, and which 
cannot fail to act upon the visitor from the 
town as an excellent nerve-tonic. 

This hcalthinesss, this hreeziness, as it 
were, this sea-atmosphere is, however, easily 
accounted for by the very nature, by the very 
purpose of the vessel. Is not the aim of 
the education, of the training, on baard the 
Exmouth above all to produce sailors of the 
type of those who have made England what 
she is to-day — the Queen and the beneficent 
Ruler of the 
Oceans and the 
foremost coloniz- 
ing and civilizing 
Power on earth ? 
Naturally, to 
achieve this aim 
the tasks which 
devolve alike upon 
instructors and in- 
structed are mani- 
fold and heavy. 
How many thous- 
and and one detail?? 
have to be taught 
— and learned ? 
How many thou- 
sand and one 
minute elements 
are necessary to 
the making of 

genuine seamen of these boys ? As the 
kindly paymaster, Mr. A. Thompson, puts 
it in his " Exmouth Song " :— 

They sire to l*e Inhered with strike and knot, 
With lie ii< 3s and hitches and I don* I know what ; 
So many* I hey can't id I f other from which ; 
Nor a double Matthew Walker from a pin in clove hitch. 

But it quickly comes all right ; the 

instructors and the lads 1 hearts are in their 

work, Thus: — 

They very soon 1*as& a torn-i-key (tourniquet) 
As well as any Captain in the Uucen's Nnvee. 


Sometimes, to be sure, a more practical 
lesson, which brings the matter truly home, 
is wanted. As for instance when : — 

They go for a pull, and whilst aflual, 

Catch a crab that knocks them down in the boat. 

Yet here, too, all things work towards a 
good end. Therefore : — 

To them that crab a ksson will tie, 

To mtike them smart sailors in the Queen's Navee. 

And that these Liliputian men on board 
the Exmouth become smart sailors is vouch- 
safed not only by Captain -Superintendent 
Bourchier, and his capable chief officer, 
Mr* Wellman ; not only by the brigantine 
Steadfast, the three-decker's sailing tender, 
and, as our illustration shows, a bold, hand- 
some yacht, of 100 tons burden, with 
roomy decks and comfortable quarters for 
fifty lads ; but it is also vouchsafed by her 
weather-beaten commander, Mr, Thomas 
Hall, than whom there is scarcely a more 
confidence- in spiring, able salt. Indeed, our 
Navy owes much to this brigantine, Apart 
from the nautical training she affords to the 
Exmouth boys, it is she who, by means of her 
constant cruises to southern and western 
ports, brings her complement of excellently 
taught youths to the direct notice of the 
captains of our men-of-war How much they 
appreciate the budding sailors thus brought 
before them is shown by the fact that on 

each return from such a cruise the crew of 
the bngantine is considerably reduced. But 
not in consequence of desertions. No, the 
men-of-war men like the Lads, and the lads 
like the men-of-war men. So it comes to pass 
that the sailor-boys of London's Training 
Ship Exmouth become blue- jackets of the 
Nation and her Queen. And once embarked 
upon this career we may safely leave them, 
although, reader, I would fain tell you yet of 
the large and exceptionally skilled band on 
board the three-decker which supplies our 
Navy and, particularly, our Army with so 
many able musicians every year, I would 
fain tell you of the Infirmary and its 
devoted matron, and of the Shipping Home 
at Li me house, kept in connection with 
the training ship for the purpose of provid- 
ing to the Exmouth lads berths on board 
merchantmen, and of affording them some 
safe anchorage when momentarily without a 
vessel through no fault of their own. I would 
fain enlist your co-operation in agitating for 
the increase of training ships such as the one 
I have endeavoured to describe to you, inas- 
much as in these, I hold, lies the strength of 
our future Navy and supremacy of the seas. 
But space does not permit me. May I 
be at least consoled by the hope that I 
have roused your interest in, and kindled 
your sympathy for, the Exmouth and her 
officers and crew. 


MSAVIWi TH1C *Y\l\\ 

Original from 

By W. W. Jacobs. 

F course, there is a deal of 
bullying done at sea at times, 
said the night watchman, 
thoughtfully. The men call 
it bullying an' the officers call 
it discipline but it's the same 
thing under another name, Still, it's fair in 
a way. It gets passed on from one to 
another Everybody aboard a'most has got 
somebody to bully, except, perhaps, the 
smallest boy; he 'as the worst of it, unless 
he can manage to get the ship's cat by itself 

I don't think sailor-men mind being 
bullied. I never Vard of it's putting one off 
3 is feed yet, and that's the main thing, arter 
all's said and done. 

Fust officers are often worse than skippers. 
In the fust place, they know they ain't 
skippers, an' that alone is enough to put 'em 
in a bad temper, especially if they've ? ad 
their ceriifikit a good many years and can't 
get a vacancy* 

I remember, a good many years ago now, 
I was lying at Calcutta one time in the 
Peewit^ as fine a barque as you'd wish to see, 
an 1 we 'ad a fust mate there as was a disgrace 
to 'is sects. A nasty, bullying, violent man, 
who used to call the hands names as 

VoL xvii.-13. 

they didn't know the meanings of and what 
was no use looking in the dictionary for. 

There was one chap aboard, Bill Cousins, 
as he used to make a partikler mark of. 
Bill ? ad the misfortin to J ave red 'air, and the 
way the mate used to throw that in 'is face 
was disgraceful. Fortunately for us all, the 
skipper was a very decent sort of man, so 
that the mate was only at J is worst when he 
wasn't by. 

We was sitting in the fo'c's'le at tea one 
arternoon, when Bill Cousins came down, 
an' we see at once Vd 'ad a turn with the 
mate. He sat all by hisself for some time 
simmering, an' then he broke out. "One 
o 1 these days 111 swing for 3 im ; mark my 

11 Don't be a fool, Bill," ses joe Smith. 

"If I could on'y mark 'im," says Bill, 
catching his breath, "Just mark ? im fair an' 
square. If I could oii'y 'ave im alone for 
ten minutes, with nobody standing by to 
see fair play. But, o' course, if I 'it 'im it's 

"You couldn't do it if it wasn't, Bill," ses 
Joe Smith again. 

" He walks about the town as though the 
place belongs to 'im," said Ted Hill. " Most 
of us is satisfied tc shove the niggers out o' 




the way, but he ups fist an' 'its 'em if they 
comes within a yard of 'im." 

"Why don't they 'it 'im back?" ses Bill. 
" I would if I was them." 

Joe Smith grunted. "Well, why don't 
you ? " he asked. 

" 'Cos I ain't a nigger/' ses Bill. 

" Well, but you might be," ses Joe, very 
soft. " Black your face an' 'ands an' legs, 
and dress up in them cotton things, and go 
ashore and get in 'is way." 

" If you will, I will, Bill," ses a chap called 
Bob Pullin. 

Well, they talked it over and over, and at 
last Joe, who seemed to take a great interest 
in it, went ashore and got the duds for 'em. 
They was a tight fit for Bill, Hindu's not 
being as wide as they might be, but Joe said 
if 'e didn't bend about he'd be all right, and 
Pullin, who was a smaller man, said his was 
fust class. 

After they were dressed, the next question 
was wot to use to colour them with ; coal was 
too scratchy, an' ink Bill didn't like. Then 
Ted Hill burnt a cork and started on Bill's 
nose with it afore it was cool, an' Bill didn't 
like that. 

" Look 'ere," ses the carpenter, " nothin' 
seems to please you, Bill — it's my opinion 
you're backing out of it." 

" You're a liar," ses Bill. 

"Well, I've got some stuff in a can as! 
might be boiled-down Hindu for all you 
could tell to the difference," ses the 
carpenter; "and if you'll keep that ugly 
mouth of your's shut, I'll paint you myself." 

Well, Bill was a bit flattered, the car- 
penter being a very superior sort of a man, 
and quite an artist in 'is way, an' Bill sat 
down an' let 'im do 'im with some stuff out 
of a can that made 'im look like a Hindu 
what 'ad been polished. Then Bob Pullin 
was done too, an' when they'd got their 
turbins on, the change in their appearance 
was wonderful. 

" Feels a bit stiff," ses Bill, working 'is 

"That'll wear off," ses the carpenter; "it 
wouldn't be you if you didn't 'ave a grumble, 

" And mind and don't spare 'im, Bill," 
ses Joe. " There's two of you, an' if you 
only do wot's expected of you, the matj 
ought to 'ave a easy time abed this v'y'ge." 

"Let the mate start fust," ses Ted Hill. 
" He's sure to start on you if you only get in 
'is way. Lord, I'd like to see his face when 
you start on 'im ! " 

Well, the two of 'em went ashore after 

dark with the best wishes o' all on board, 
an' the rest of us sat down in the fo'c's'le 
spekerlating as to what sort o' time the mate 
was goin' to 'ave. He went ashore all right, 
because Ted Hill see 'im go, an' he noticed 
with partikler pleasure as 'ow he was dressed 
very careful. 

It must ha' been near eleven o'clock. I 
was sitting with Smith on the port side o' the 
galley, when we heard a 'ubbub approaching 
the ship. It was the mate just coming 
aboard. He was without 'is 'at ; 'is neck-tie 
was twisted round 'is ear, and 'is shirt and 
'is collar was all torn to shreds. The second 
and third officers ran up to him to see what 
was the matter, and while he was telling 
them, up comes the skipper. 

" You don't mean to tell me, Mr. Fingall," 
ses the skipper, in surprise, " that you've been 
knocked about like that by them mild and 
meek Hindus ? " 

"Hindus, sir?" roared the mate. "Cer- 
t'n'y not, sir. I've been assaulted like this by 
five German sailor-men. And I licked 'em 

" I'm glad to hear that," ses the skipper ; 
and the second and third pats the mate on 
the back, just like you pat a dog you don't 

" Big fellows they was," ses he, " an' they 
give me some trouble. Look at my eye ! " 

The second officer struck a match and 
looked at it, and it cert'n'y was a beauty. 

" I hope you reported this at the police- 
station ? " ses the skipper. 

" No, sir," ses the mate, holding up 'is 'ed. 
" I don't want no p'lice to protect me. Five's 
a large number, but I drove 'em off, and I 
don't think they'll meddle with any British 
fust officers again." 

" You'd better turn in," ses the second, 
leading him off by the arm. 

The mate limped off with him, and as soon 
as the coast was clear we put our 'eds together 
and tried to make out how it was that Bill 
Cousins and Bob 'ad changed themselves 
into five German sailor-men. 

" It's the mate's pride," ses the carpenter. 
" He didn't like being knocked about by 

We thought it was that, but we had to wait 
nearly another hour afore the two came 
aboard, to make sure. There was a differ- 
ence in the way they came aboard, too, from 
that of the mate. They didn't make no 
noise, and the fust thing we knew of their 
coming aboard was seeing a bare, black foot 
waving feebly at the top of the fo'c's'le ladder 
feelin' for the step. 




That was Bob- He came down without a 
word, and then we see 5 e was holding another 
black foot and guiding it to where it should 
go- That was Bill, an' of all the 'orrid, limp- 
looking blacks that you ever see, Bill was the 

"I wish 'e 'ad," ses Bill, with a groan; 
my face is bruised and cut about cruel I 

can't bear to touch it." 

" Do you mean to say the two 
couldn't settle J im ? " ses Joe, staring. 

of you 

" it cektVv was a beauty*" 

worst when he got below. He just sat on a 
locker all of a heap and held 'is J ed, which 
was swollen up, in 'is hands* Bob went and 
sat beside 'im, and there they sat, for all 
the world like two wax-figgers instead o' 
human beings* 

" Well, you done it, Bill ? " ses Joe, after 
waiting a long time for them to speak, "Tell 
us all about it!" 

"Nothin' to tell," ses Bill, very surly. 
" We knocked 'im about" 

" And he knocked us about," ses Bob, 
with a groan. u I'm sore all over, and as 
for my feet " 

" Wot's the matter with them ? " ses Joe. 

"Trod on/' ses Bob, very short. " If my 
bare feet was trod on once they was a dozen 
times, I've never 'ad such a doing in all my 
life. He fought like a devil I thought he'd 
ha' murdered Bill" 

" I mean to say we got a hiding," ses Bill. 
11 We got close to him fust start off and got 
our feet trod on, Arter that it was like fight- 
ing a windmill, with sledge-hammers for sails + r ' 

He gave a groan and turned over in his 
bunkj and when we asked him some more 
about it, swore at us. They both seemed 
quite done up, and at last dropped off to 
sleep just as they was, without even stopping 
to wash the black off or to undress themselves, 

I was awoke rather early in the morning 
by the sounds of somebody talking to them- 
selves, and a little splashing of water- It 
seemed to go on a long while, and at last I 
leaned out of my bunk and see Bill bending 
over a bucket and washing himself and using 
bad language. 

u Wot's the matter, Bill ?" ses Joe, yawning 
and sitting up in bed. 

" My skin's that tender, I can hardly touch 

umvERsnV of micNIgan 



it," ses Bill, bending down and rinsing 'is face. 
"Is it all orf?" 

"Orf?" ses Joe; "no, d course it ain't 
Why don't you use some soap ? " 

"Soap, "answers Bill, mad -like ; "why, I T ve 
used more soap than I've used for six months 
in the ordinary way + " 

"That's no good," ses Joe; "give your- 
self a good wash. 3 ' 

Bill put down the soap then very careful, 
and went over to ? im and told him all the 
dreadful things he'd do to him when he got 
strong ag'in, and then Bob Pullin got out of 
his bunk an' 'ad a try on his face. Him 
an' Bill kept washing, and then taking each 
other to the light and trying to believe it 
was coming off until they got sick of it, and 
then Bill 'e up with his foot and capsized 
the bucket, and walked up and down the 
fo'cVle raving. 

"Well, the carpenter put it on," ses a 
voice, "make 'im take it orf," 

You wouldn't believe the job we 'ad to 
wake that man up. He wasn't fairly woke 
till he was hauled out of 'is bunk an* set 
down opposite them two pore black fellers 
an* told to make J em white again, 

" I don't believe as there's anything will 
touch it," he ses, at last. " I forgot all about 

"Do you mean to say," bawls BUI, "that 
we've got to he black all the rest of our life ?" 

"Certrily not," ses the carpenter, indig- 
nantly, " it'll wear off in time ; shaving every 
morning '11 'elp it, I should say." 

tc I'll get my razor now," ses Bill, In a 
awful voice ; " don't let *im go, Bob. I'll 
'ack 'is head orf." 

He actually went off an' got his razor, but 
o' course, we jumped out o* our bunks and 
got between 'cm and told him plainly that it 
was not to be, and then we set 'em down and 
tried everything we could think of, from 
butter and linseed oil to cold tea- leaves used 
as a poultice, and all it did was to make 'em 
shinier an' shinier, 

" It's no good, I tell you," ses the carpenter, 
"it's the most lasting black I know. If I 
told you how much that stuff is a can, you 
wouldn't believe me." 

i; Well, you're in it," ses Bill, his voice all 
of a tremble; "you done it so as we could 
knock the mate about. Whatever's done to 
us '11 be done to you too." 

"I don't think turps '11 touch it," ses 
the carpenter, getting up, " but we'll 'ave 
a try/' 

He went and fetched the can and poured 
some out on a bit o ? rag and told Bill to dab 
his face with it Bill give a dab, and the 
next moment he rushed over with a scream 
and buried his head in a shirt what Simmons 
was wearing at the time and began to wipe 
his face with it. Then he left the flustered 
Simmons an' shoved another chap away 
from the bucket and buried his face in it and 
kicked and carried on like a madman. Then 
J e jumped into his bunk again and buried 'is 
face in the clothes and rocked hisself and 
moaned as if he was dying. 


. "^©riqitYalTrom 




u Don't you use it, Bob/ 1 he ses, at Inst. 

" Tain't likely," ses Bob. " It's a good 
thing you tried it fust, Bill" 

11 'Ave they tried holy -stone ? " ses a voice 
from a bunk. 

H No, they ain't," ses Bob, snappishly, 
"and, what's more, they ain't goin' to." 

Both o' their tempers was so bad that we 
let the subject drop while we was at break- 
fast. The orkard persition of affairs could no 
longer be disregarded. Fust one chap threw 
out a 'int and then another, gradually getting 
a little stronger and stronger, until Bill turned 
round in a uncomfortable way and requested 
of us to leave off talking with our mouths 
full and speak up like Englishmen wot we 

H You see, it's this way, Bill," ses Joe, soft- 
like- (£ As soon as the mate sees you there'll 
be trouble for all of us-" 

" Oh, desart is it ? " ses Bill ; " an' where 
are we goin* to desart to ? " 

" Well, that we leave to you," ses Joe ; 
61 there's many a ship short-'anded as would 
be giad to pick up sich a couple of prime 
sailor-men as you an J Bob." 

** Ah, an' wot about our black faces ? " ses 
Bill, still in the same sneering, ungrateful 
sort o' voice. 

M That can be got over," ses Joe, 

" 'Ow ? "ses Bill and Bob together. 

" Ship as nigger-cooks," ses Joe, slapping 
his knee and looking round triumphant. 

It's no good trying to do some people a 
kindness. Joe was perfectly sincere, and 
nobody could say but wot it wasn't a good 
idea, but o* course Mr, Bill Cousins must 
consider hisself insulted, and I can only 
suppose that the trouble he'd gone through 
'ad affected his brain. Likewise Bob Pullins. 


" For all of us," repeats Bill, nodding. 

"Whereas," ses joe, looking round for 
support, " if we gets up a little collection for 
you and you should find it convenient to 

11 'Ear 'ear," ses a lot o 1 voices. "Bravo, 

Anyway, thafs the only excuse I can make 
for 'em. To cut a long story short, nobody 
'ad any more breakfast, and no time to do 
anything until them two men was scrouged 
up in a corner an* 'eld there unable to 

mc ? v ?* Original from , _ 

"Iidiin«¥»iT*Wr490€LjieniH ses the car- 



penter, arter it was all over, "if I'd known 
they was gain' to carry on like this. They 
wanted to be done," 

" The mate'll half murder 'em," ses Ted 

* " He'll J ave 'em sent to gaol, that's wot 
he'll do/ 1 ses Smith. " It's a serious matter 
to go ashore and commit assault and battery 
on the mate. 1 ' 

"You're all in it," ses the voice o' Bill 
from the floor. "I'm going to make a clean 
breast of it. Joe Smith put us up to it, the 
carpenter blacked jis, and the others en- 
couraged us." 

"Joe got the clothes for us," ses Bob. " I 
know the place he got 'em from, too," 

The ingratitude o 1 these two men was sich 
that at first we decided to have no more to 
do with them, but better feelings prevailed, 
and we held a sort o' meeting to consider 
what was best to be done. An' everything 
that was suggested one o ? them two voices 
from the floor found fault with and wouldn't 
J ave, and at last we 'ad to go up on deck, 
with nothing decided upon, except to swear 
T ard and fast as we knew nothing about it. 

"The only advice we can give you," ses 
Joe, looking back at 'em, "is to stay down 
J ere as long as you can." 

making sich a fuss over J im, that I think he 
rather gloried in it than otherwise. 

"Where's them other two 'ands?" he ses 
by -and -by, glaring out of J is black eye, 

" Down below, sir, I b'lieve," ses the 
carpenter, all of a tremble. 

"Go an 1 send 'em up," ses the mate to 

" Vessir," ses Joe, without moving. 

" Well, go on then," roars the mate. 

" They ain't over and above well, sir, this 
morning," ses Joe. 

"Send 'em up, confound you," ses the 
mate, limping towards p im. 

Well, Joe give : is shoulder a 'elpless sort o' 
shrug and walked forward and bawled down 
the fo'c's'le, 

11 They're coming, sir," he ses, walking 
back to the mate just as the skipper came 
out of J is cabin. 

We all went on with our work as *ard as 
we knew J ow. The skipper was talking to 
the mate about ? is injuries, and saying unkind 
things about Germans, when he give a sort 
of a shout and staggered back staring, We 
just looked round, and there was them two 
blackamoors coming slowly towards us, 

" Good heavens, Mr* Fingall," ses the old 
man. "What's this?" 


A'most the fust person we see on deck 
was the mate, an J a pretty sight he was. He'd 
got a bandage round 'is left eye, and a black 
ring round the other. His nose was swelled 
and his lip cut, but the other officers were 

I never see sich a look on any man's 
face as I saw on the mate's then. Three 
times 'e opened 'is mouth to speak, and 
shut it ag'in without saving anything. The 

vdns mifeweMEftr trem(in - 



dous and 'is cheeks was all blown out 

44 That's Bill Cousins' hair," ses the skipper 
to himself. "It's Bill Cousins' hair. It's 
Bill Cus " 

Bob walked up to him, with Bill lagging a 
little way behind, and then he stops just in 
front of 'im and fetches up a sort o' little 

44 Don't you make those faces at me, sir," 
roars the skipper. " What do you mean by 
it? What have you been doing to your- 
selves ? " 

44 Nothin', sir," ses Bill, 'umbly ; " it was 
done to us." 

The carpenter, who was just going to 
cooper up a cask which 'ad started a bit, 
shook like a leaf, and give Bill a look that 
would ha' melted a stone. 

'Who did it?" ses the skipper. 

" We've been the wictims of a cruel outrage, 
sir," ses Bill, doing all 'e could tp avoid the 
mate's eye, which wouldn't be avoided. 

'So I should think," ses the skipper. 
44 You've been knocked about, too." 

" Yessir," ses Bill, very respectful ; " me 
and Bob was ashore last night, sir, just for a 
quiet look round, when we was set on to by 
five furrinerc." 

" What?'' ses the skipper; and I won't 
repeat what the mate said. 

44 We fought 'em as long as we could, sir," 
ses Bill, " then we was both knocked sense- 
less, and when we came to ourselves we was 
messed up like this 'ere." 

44 What sort o* men were they ? " asked the 
skipper, getting excited. 

4 ' Sailor-men, sir," ses Bob, putting in his 
spoke. 44 Dutchies or Germans, or something 
' o' that sort" 

44 Was there one tall man, with a fair 

beard," ses the skipper, getting more and 
more excited. 

44 Yessir," ses Bill, in a surprised sort o' 

44 Same gang," ses the skipper. 44 Same 
gang as knocked Mr. Fingall about, you may 
depend upon it. Mr. Fingall, it's a mercy 
for you you didn't get your face blacked 

I thought the mate would ha' burst. I can't 
understand how any man could swell as he 
swelled without bursting. 

44 1 don't believe a word of it," he ses, at 

" Why not ? " ses the skipper, sharply. 

"Well, I don't," ses the mate, his voice 
trembling with passion. "I 'ave my reasons." 

44 1 s'pose you don't think these two poor 
fellows went and blacked themselves for fun, 
do you?" ses the skipper. 

The mate couldn't answer. 

44 And then went and knocked themselves 
about for more fun ? " says the skipper, very 

The mate didn't answer. He looked 
round helpless like, and see the third officer 
swopping glances with the second, and all 
the men looking sly and amused, and I think 
if ever a man saw 'e was done 'e did at that 

He turned away and went below, and the 
skipper arter reading us all a little lecture on 
getting into fights without reason, sent the 
two chaps below ag'in and told 'em to turn in 
and rest He was so good to 'em all the 
way 'ome, and took sich a interest in seeing 
r em change from black to brown and from 
light brown to spotted lemon, that the mate 
daren't do nothing to thein, but gave us their 
share of what he owed them as well as an 
extra dose of our own. 

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Original from 

Animal Actualities. 

NOTE. — Under this title we intend printing a series of perfectly authentic anecdotes of animal f(/e t 
illustrated by Mr. f+ A. Shepherd* an artist taw? a favourite with readers of The St rami Magazine. 
iVe shall be glad to receive similar antedates , fully authenticated by names of witnesses, for use in future 
numbers. While the storks themselves will be matters of fact, it must be understood that the artist will 
treat the subject with freedom and fancy \ more with a view to an amusing commentary than to a mere 
representation of the occurrence. 


« SSSf 

HIS incident took place in the 
spring of 1897, at French's Farm, 
Netherfield, near Battle, Sussex. 
r Jjj$p: This farm lies in the midst of the 
chicken -raising district, and it was 
at the time in the occupation of Mr. W. A, 
Williams. Mr. Williams, among his other 
farm operations, reared thousands of chickens, 
which the travelling higglers would collect 

and fatten for the market Most of these 
chickens were hatched in an incubator and 
reared by aid of a foster-mother — which 
latter, by the way, is not a motherly old hen, 
as some might suppose, but a sort of bo* 
lined with flannel. Sometimes it is merely 
an old coop, 

The farm was surrounded by woods, and 
at first many chicks were lost by raids of 

by Vj(. 

riginal from 




foxes. To check the foxes, Mr. Williams and a spaniel bitch had many a moonlight fox 

washed the coops well with carbolic acid, and hunt together. Satan, by the way, was a 

let his dogs loose at night, This was effectual, peculiar dog T very quiet, but a game fighter 

Mr. Williams's tailless sheepdog M Satan n when roused. 




Original from 



** WHAT I WO RATS ? * 

For a time the chickens prospered, and 
then, one morning, Mr. Williams found but 
three left oat of some twenty-five fresh- 
hatched the day before* It was very odd, 
Mr. Williams couldn't understand it, and his - 
dog Satan seemed equally puzzled. The 
chicks had been turned out in excellent 
health the day before, twenty -five inquisitive, 

The thing occurred again and again, and 
the mystery was dense as ever* It couldn^t 
be foxes, because they almost always kill a 
few for the sake of killings and leave them 
lying about Was it rats? No, there were 
no rats, said the ratcatcher who was called 
in. But still the disappearances went 
on, and morning after morning fifteen or 


little, fuzzy activities, all agog to examine the 
world. Now there were but three, and not a 
scrap or a fragment of fluff left to suggest 
what had happened* 

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twenty of yesterday's chicks were not to be 
found ; and the door of their coop was 
opened, or knocked down. If it were a 
human thief, why did \\z leave any at 
Original from 






all? And besides, a man entering the yard 
at night would have been pounced on by the 
dogs at once* At last, in desperation, a 
friend suggested that perhaps the sheepdog 
knew something of it, But that was alto- 
gether unlikely— one had only to glance at 
him to see it. He was always a kindly 
guardian — almost a parent to the mother- 
less chicks. He was chained up just 
outside the farm-house door all day, with 
a brood of happy chicks ever in his 
kennel and his food - pan, and, indeed, 
hopping all over him fearlessly, and nothing 
they could do ruffled his placid temper or 
changed his benevolent aspect So the 
mystery continued, and was deep as even 

Till one morning it happened to be neces- 
sary for Mr. Williams to rise just after dawn, 
and as he did so he looked out of his bed- 
room window. There stood Satan, the sheep- 

dog, listening intently at the house door. As 
he listened and his master watched, there 
presently came along a batch of young chicks. 
Plainly the door of their coop had been 
opened again, and they had been let out 
And then Mr, Williams gasprtL For straight- 
way the dog turned and calmly began snapping 
up the chicks, bolting them whole, as Mr. 
Williams expresses it, " like oysters." He 
had thus disposed of eight or nine in rapid 
succession, when Mr, Williams made a noise 
at the window, and the dog instantly fled. 

That day Mr. Williams took particular care 
to move the chickens near hirn as he lay by 
his kennel, and to watch. But, no— the 
cunning rascal would take no notice of them 
at all. They ran and tumbled all about 
him, but he let them run. He was a hypo- 
crite, consummate and proved, and he left 
the farm that evening. 




by \j>Q 


Original from 

From the Italian of Luigi Capuana. 

THOUSAND years ago there 
lived a King arid a Queen. 
They had only one daughter, 
who was dearer to them than 
all the world* Now, when the 
King of France sent to their 
Court to request the hand of the Princess, 
neither father nor mother would part from 
their beloved daughter, and they said to the 
Ambassador : " She is still too young ! fJ 

But as the girl became every day more 
beautiful, the next year the King of Spain's 
Ambassador appeared to request the girl's 
hand for his Sovereign. And again the 
parents answered : u She is still too young ! " 
Both the Kings were very angry at this 
refusal, and resolved to revenge themselves 
on the poor Princess. 

As they were not able themselves to carry 
out their wicked resolve, they summoned a 
Magician and said to him: "You must 
devise for us some charm to be used against 
the Princess — and the worse it is the greater 
shall be your reward t * 

With the words, "In one month your wish 
shall be fulfilled ! " the Magician departed. 

Digitized by TjOOQ I C 

Before the four weeks were over, he 
appeared again in the castle of the King of 

" Your Majesty, here is the charm ! " he 
tried, " (iivc her this ring as a present, and 
when she has worn it on her finger for 
four -and -twenty hours, you shall see the 
effect ! : ' 

Now the two Kings consulted together as 
to how. they should get the ring to the 
Princess. For they were no longer friendly 
with her parents, who would, consequently, 
become suspicious of any present sent by 
them. What was to be done ? 

"I have it! I have it I' 1 the King of 
Spain cried, suddenly. 

Then he disguised himself as a goldsmith, 
set out on a journey, and took up his position 
just opposite the palace where the Princess 
lived. The Queen noticed him from her 
window, and as she happened at that time 
to be wanting to buy some jewellery she sent 
for him. After she had bought from the 
stranger various bracelets, chains, and ear- 
rings, she said to her daughter : — 

" And you will not choose anything among 




all these fine things for yourself, little 

Then the Princess answered, " I see 
nothing especially beautiful among them." 

Then the disguised King took the ring 
out of its case, which hu had up to the pre- 
sent kept hidden , made it sparkle in the 
sun, and said : u Your Majesty, here is still 
a very rare jewel ; this ring has not its equal 
in the world for beauty. 
And it does not please 

" Oh, how splendid ! 
Oh, how beautifully it 
sparkles and gleams ! " 
cried the Princess, en- 
tranced, " How much 
does it cost ? " 

u The ring has no 
price ; I shall be con- 
tented with whatever you 
give me for it," 

I*hen a great sum of 
money was paid to him, 
and he went his way. The 
Princess put the ring on 
her finger, and could not 
turn her eyes away from 
it^ so charmed was she 
with its brilliancy. But 
four - and - twenty hours 
had not passed — it was 
just evening — when the 
poor girl uttered a terrible 
cry of anguish. 

"Oh, dear I oh, dear!" 
sounded through the 
whole palace. 

The King, the Queen, 
and all the ladies of the 
Court ran, white with 
terror, and with candles 
in their hands^ to see 
what had happened. 

44 Take away your candles ! Take them 
away ! Take them away ! ?] cried the 
Princess, beside herself with despair, " Do you 
not see that I have turned into cotton- wool ? ?D 

And her body had, indeed, suddenly 
changed into cot ton -wool. The King and 
Queen were inconsolable at this terrible mis- 
fortune, and they at once summoned the 
wisest men of the kingdom to consult with 
them as to what was to be done in this 

"Your Majesties," the councillors con- 
cluded, after long deliberation, " have it pro- 
claimed in all countries that whoever restores 
your daughter may wed her.' 

And then messengers with drums and 
trumpets went round the whole kingdom 
and far beyond it, and proclaimed :— 

' l He who restores the Princess to health 
may become the King's son-in-law." 

About this time there lived in a small 
town the son of a shoemaker, There was 
great want in his father's house, and one 
day, when not even a crust of bread re- 


by Google 

Eoailied, and both would have had to die of 
hunger, the son said, " Father, give me your 
blessing ; I will go out into the world to seek 
my fortune." 

l * May Heaven be gracious to you, my 
son ! " said the lather, and the youth took 
his staff and set out on his journey. 

He had already left the fields of his native 
district far behind him when he met a band 
of rough boys, who were making a fearful 
uproar and throwing stones at a toad to 
kill it 

"What harm has the poor animal done 
you? Is it not as much God ? s creature as 
you are ? Let it live ! " he exclaimed, 
Original from 



indignantly. But when he saw that the 
hard-hearted fellows paid no attention to his 
words and did not desist from their intention, 
he rushed angrily at them and gave one 
a sound box on the ears, and another a 
mighty punch in his ribs. The boys 
scattered in a tumult, and the toad quickly 
used the opportunity to slip into a hole in 
the wall. 

Then the youth went farther and farther 
on his way. Suddenly the sound of trumpets 
and the roll of drums came to his ear. And 
listen ! Is not some proclamation being 
made ? He listened attentively and dis- 
tinctly heard the words : " He who restores 
the Princess to health may become the 
King's son-in-law ! 7J 

" What is the matter with her ? " he asked 
a passer-by. 

" Don't you know? She has turned into 

He thanked his informant and continued 
his travels. Now, by the time night had 
sunk upon the earth, he had come to a great 
desert, and he determined to lay himself 
down to sleep. But how terrified he was 
when, on turning his head to look once again 
at the way he had come, 
he saw a tall, beautiful 
woman standing at his 

He was about to spring 
quickly away when she 
said, " Do not be afraid 
of me. I am a Fairy, 
and have come to thank 

" To thank me ? And 
what for ? " the youth 
asked, in confusion, 

" You saved my life ! 
My fate ordains that I 
shall be a toad by day 
and a fairy by night. 
Now, I am at your 

" Good Fairy," then 
said the youth, " I have 
just heard of a Princess 
who has turned into 
cotton - wool, and who- 
ever heals her may 
become her husband. 
Teach me how to restore 
her to health. That is 
my most ardent wish ! " 

Then the Fair)- said, 
" Take this sword in 
your hand and walk 

straight on until you come to a dense 
forest, full of snakes and wild animals, 
However, you must not be afraid of 
them, but must bravely continue your 
journey until you stand in front of the 
Magician's palace. As soon as you have 
reached it, knock thre£ times at the great 
gate . , , " And she described to him 
fully what he was to do. 

" If you ever need my help, come to this 
place at this same hour, and you will find me 
here ! " and giving him her white hand in 
farewell, she disappeared before the youth 
could open his mouth to thank hen 

Without pausing to consider, the cobbler's 
son set out and went straight on, according 
to his instructions. He had already gone a 
good way when his path led him into a 
dark forest, into the midst of wild animals. 
That was awful ! They filled the air with 
fearful roars, gnashed their teeth blood- 
thirstily, and hungrily opened their jaws* 
Though the poor youth's heart thumped, he 
went straight on, making as if he did 
not notice them. At last he reached the 
Magician's palace, and knocked three times 
at the great gate. 

by Google 


Original from 



Then a voice came from the interior of the 
castle: "Woe to you, rash stranger, who 
have the boldness to come to me ! What is 
your wish?" 

" If you really are the Magician, come out 
and fight with me ! " cried the youth. 

The Magician, in a great fury at this 
audacity, rushed out, armed to the teeth, to 
accept the challenge. But as soon as he 
saw the sword in the youth's hand, he broke 
out into pitiable lamentation, and, sinking 
trembling on to his knees, cried :— 

u Oh, woe to me, unfortunate creature that 
1 am ! At least spare my life ! " 

Then the youth said : "If you wilt re- 
lease the Princess from the spell your life 
shall be spared/ 1 

Then the Magi- 
cian took a ring 
out of his pocket 
and said : ** Take 
this ring and put 
it on the little 
finger of her left 
hand and she 
shall be well 

Not a little re- 
joiced at the suc- 
cess of his journey, 
the youth hastened 
to the King and 
asked, just to 
satisfy himself of 
the truth of what 
he had been told : 
" Your Majesty, is 
it true that he 
who restores the 
Princess to health 
will be your son- 
in-law ? n 

" It is verily 
true ! " the anxious 
King assured him. 

" Well then, I am ready to accomplish the 
task ! ■ 

Then the poor Princess was brought in, 
and all the ladies of ,the Court, as well as . 
the servants, stood round her to witness the 

But no sooner had she put the ring on her 
little finger-than she burst into bright flame 
and stood there, uttering heartrending cries. 
Everything was plunged into confusion , and 
the horrified youth seized the opportunity of 
escaping from the scene of the disaster as 
fast as his legs would carry him. His one 
wish was to get to the Fairy, and he did not 

stop running until he had come to the place 
where he had seen her the first time. 

" Fairy, where are you ? " he cried, all in a 

** I am at your service/ 1 was the answer. 

Then he told the Fairy of the misfortune 
which had happened to him. 

" You have allowed yourself to be de- 
ceived ! Take this dagger and go again to 
the Magician. See that he does not fool 
you this rime ! " 

Then she gave him all sorts of good advice 
for his dangerous journey and bestowed on 
him her blessing. Arrived at the great gate 
of the palace, he knocked three times. Then 
the Magician cried, as before : " Woe to you, 

bold stranger ! 

is your 





wish ? ? 

" If you are 
really the Magi- 
cian, you are to 
fight with me ! jr 

The Magician, 
armed to his teeth, 
came rushing out, 
in a rage, But 
when he saw the 
dagger he sank 
trembling on his 
knees, and begged 
piteously : " Oh, 
spare my life." 

" GoocLfor-noth- 
ing Magician !" 
the youth cried, 
angrily ; il you 
have deceived 
me I Now I will 
keep you in 
chains until 
the Princess is 
freed from the 
spell ! " 

Then he put 
him in chains, stuck the dagger into the 
earth, and fastened the chain to it so that 
the Magician could not move. 

u You are mightier than I ! Now I realize 
; it! 7 ' cried the enchained Magician, gnash- 
ing his teeth. "Take the goldsmith's ring 
from -the Princess's finger, and she will be 
released from the spell" 

Not until the youth had learnt that the 
Princess had escaped with only a few burns 
on her hands, owing to the promptness of 
the bystanders in extinguishing the flames, 
did he summon up enough courage to appear 
before the King again. 
Original from 




il Your Majesty, I implore your pardon ! " 
he said. " The treacherous Magician, not I, 
was the cause of the disaster. Now I have 
completely overcome him, and my remedy 
will succeed, I have only to draw the gold- 
smith's ring from your daughter's finger 
and she will be all right again," 

And so it happened. As soon as the ring 
was taken off, the Princess at once changed 
back to what she had been before. But who 
would believe it to be possible ? Her tongue, 
eyes, and ears were missing ; they had been 
consumed by the flames ! The youth's per- 
plexity at this new disaster was indescribable. 
Again he applied to his guardian Fairy for 

" You have let him make a fool of you a 
second time I '■ she said, again giving him 
advice, to help him towards the fulfilment 
of his wish of becoming the King's son- 

When he came to the Magician he shouted 
at him : H You miserable deceiver ! Now 
my patience is at an end I But eye for eye, 
tongue for tongue, ear for ear ! T1 

With these words he seized 
the Magician to strangle 

But the latter cried, in the 
utmost peril of death : " Have 
mercy I Have mercy ! Let 
me live ! Go to my sisters, 
who live a little farther back 
than this," 

Then he gave him the neces- 
sary directions so that he might 
find the way there without 
delay, and also the magic word 
which he had to pronounce at 
the gate. After some hours he 
came to the gate of a palace, 
which was in every respect like 
that of the Magician. He 
knocked, and in answer to the 
question, " Who are you, and 
what do you want here ? n 
answered, " I want the 
gold horn." 

"I perceive that my brother 
has sent you to me. What 
does he want of me ? " 

"He wants a little piece of 
red cloth ; he has torn a hole fsJ^JiS* 
in his cloak," 

" Here's a piece, and now 
get you gone from here ! " a 
woman in the palace cried 
angrily, at the same time throw- 
ing into his opened hands a 

little piece of red cloth, which she had cut 
in the shape of a tongue. 

He journeyed on for several hours* and at 
last came to the foot of a high mountain. On 
a spur of rock was a castle, which looked 
exactly like that of the Magician, Then he 
knocked at the great gate, and a voice came 
from the interior, saying, u Who are you, and 
what is your desire ? " 

" I want the little gold hand." 

" That's all right. I perceive that my 
brother has sent you. What does he want 
from me?" 

u He wants two lentil grains for soup," 

"What rubbish! Here, take them and 
make yourself scarce ! " 

Then the owner of the castle threw him 
two little lentil-grains, wrapped in a piece of 
paper, and noisily closed the window. 

At last he came to a wide plain, in the 
middle of which a castle exactly like the 
Magician's was built. When he knocked he 
was asked what he wanted, and answered : 
" I want the little gold foot," 



by Google 


Original from 




" Ah ! my brother, has sent you to me ! 
And what does he wish from me ? " 

" He wishes you to send him two snails 
for his supper." 

" Here they are, but now leave me in 
peace ! " a woman called out, ungraciously, 
from the window, at the same time throwing 
him the two snails he desired. 

Now the youth returned with the things 
he had collected to the Magician, and said : 
" Here I bring you what you wished for." 

Then the Magician gave him all the 
necessary instructions as to the use of the 
three things. But when the youth turned 
his back to go away, the captive cried, 
imploringly, "And you are going to leave 
me lying here ? " 

" It would be no more than you deserve. 
However, I will release you. But woe 
betide you if you have deceived me again." 

After the youth had released the Magician 
from his chains, he hurried away to appear 
before the Princess. 

Opening her mouth, he put in it the little 
piece of red stuff which he had brought 
with him, and she at once had a tongue. 

But the first words which came from her 
mouth were : " Miserable cobbler ! Out of 
my sight ! Begone ! " 

The poor youth was motionless with pain- 
ful amazement, and said to himself: "This 
is once more the work of the faithless 

But he would not let this bitter ingratitude 
prevent him from completing the good work. 
Then, taking the two little lentil-grains, he 
put them into the blind pupils of the girl's 
eyes, and at once she was able to see as 
before. But no sooner had she turned her 
eyes upon him than she covered her face 
with her hands and cried, scornfully, "Oh, 
how ugly mankind is ! How horribly ugly ! " 

The poor youth's courage nearly vanished, 
and again he said to himself, " The worthless 
Magician has done this for me ! " 

But he would not allow himself to be put 
out. Taking the empty snail-shells from his 
pocket, he put them very skilfully where the 
girl's ears had once been, and behold ! the 
Princess had back again her sweet little 

Then the youth turned to the King and 
said, " Your Majesty, now I am your son-in- 
law ! " 

But when the Princess heard these w r ords 
she began to weep like a spoilt child, sobbing, 
" He called me a witch ! He said I was 
an old witch ! " 

That was too much ingratitude for the 
poor youth. Without saying a word, he 
hurriedly left the castle, to seek out his 

"Fairy, where are you?" he cried, still 
trembling with anger and vexation. 

" I am at your service." 

Then he told her how shamefully he had 
been treated by the Princess, who was now 
restored to health. 

The Fairy said, laughing : " You probably 
forgot to take the Magician's other ring from 
her little finger?" 

" Oh, dear ! I did not think of that in 
my confusion," exclaimed the youth, seizing 
his head between his two hands in mingled 
terror and shame. 

" Now hasten and repair the mistake ! " 
advised the Fairy. 

Sooner than he had thought possible, he 
was standing in front of the Princess and 
drew the evil ring from her little finger. 
Then a lovely smile spread over her beauti- 
ful features, and she thanked him so sweetly 
and kindly that he became red with em- 

Then the King said, solemnly : " This is 
your husband." 

And the youth and the Princess embraced 
one another in the sight of all, and a few 
days afterwards the wedding was cele- 

Vol. xvii.— 15 

by Google 

Original from 

A Funeral at Sea. 

By J. H. Barker. 

I FE on hoard one of the large 
liners which run from South- 
ampton or London to the 
Cape is almost ideal. After 
the first week of the trip, calm 
seas and glorious sunshine are 
experienced, and on board we are free from 
the rush of business life, and can laze away 
our time to our heart's content. No letters 
to be looked through, no clients or customers 
to interview, and no morning paper to read. 
If that is not a holiday, what is ? 

For certain reasons, the first part of the 
voyage is not so enjoyable to some as to 
others, for the Bay of Biscay has a very bad 
name, and although it may be a bugbear 
whose growl is often worse than its bite t 
nevertheless, it sometimes acts up to its 
reputation. However, when Madeira is 
past, all thoughts of mai de mer are put 
aside, everyone begins to take a fresh 
interest in the trip, and things in general 
bug in to u brighten up," Deck chairs are 
placed in the shady parts of the deck, and we 
recline in comfort and talk scandal {for 
scandal is talked even on board), read novels 
and smoke. 

Soon after " The Canaries" are left behind, 
however, a committee is formed, and a 
programme of sports 
and entertainments 
drawn up, to enliven 
the remaining fort- 
night of the voyage, 
There are cricket for 
the more energetic, 
bull - board, quoits, 
sports, concerts, 
dances {including a 
fancy dress ball), etc, 
in which everyone 
takes part, and a 
good time is provided 
for one and all 

But life at sea, as 
on land, is not all 
sunshine and happi- 
ness, and I shall ever 
remember a certain 
lovely hot morning 
in December, when 
we were still nine or 
ten flays" sail from Fivm**} 

Digitized by V^C 

Cape Town, and those of us who cared for 
the luxury were having beef-tea and biscuits 
in the saloon, when the captain's clerk came 
in, and said : £i There's to be a funeral this 
afternoon at four o'clock." 

I can never forget the change that came 
over the company. It seemed as thejugh a 
thunderbolt had fallen. A few minutes 
before we had all been talking of the various 
amusements which were to take place during 
the day, and no thought, except of pleasure, 
had entered our minds. 

" Who is dead?" we asked, and were told 
that a steerage passenger had died of con- 

There were no games that day : it seemed 
as though the life on board had completely 

At four o'clock nearly all the passengers 
came on deck to attend the funeral The 
ceremony was to take place in the " after- 
well J ' of the vessel, the lower deck being 
kept for the officers and men who were to 
take part in the service* The " gangway " 
was taken down, everything prepared, the 
engines slowed down, and the body w r as 
borne out on to the deck by the w bosun " 
and three of his men, and placed near the 
side of the vessel. 

L^RINia^ THE I .tM J v 







At sea the body is sewn up in a canvas 
sack, which is heavily weighted at the foot, 
and this is laid on a u coaming " (a part of 
one of the hatches), which takes the place 
of a bier. The whole is covered with a 
Union Jack, which is fastened to the Tour 
comers of the u coaming/' so that when 
the time comes to commit the body to 
the deep the one end of the " coaming " 
is raised and the body slips off into the 
water, leaving the flag in its place. 

The captain and 
first officer read the 
burial sen ice between 
them, the other 
officers and men join- 
ing in the responses. 
Never have I heard 
the service read more 

impressively than it 

was that December 

day, and during parts 

of the reading there 

^\K few dry eyes to 

be seen amongst the 

passengers. The 

beautiful words -are 

impressive at any 

time, but at sea their 

kauty h magnified 

a hundredfold. 
A few minutes after 

*e service had com- 

m eneed, at a signal 
foni the first officer, 

the engines were 
stopped altogether, 
and then there was 
absolute stillness and 
silence, broken only 
by the voice of the 
captain and the ripple 
of the water as the 
ship still moved along 
her way. 

" We, therefore, 
commit her body to 
the deep . , . " and 
at these words the 
men who had stood 
by the " coaming " 
on which the body 
rested raised it gently 
up/ there was a dull 
splash, and the body 
sank to rise no more, 
until the great day 
when the deep shall 
give up her dead. 
Everything was done in the most reverent 
spirit, and when at the close of the service 
the engines were again put full steam ahead, 
the "gangway v closed up, and the ordinary 
routine of ship-life resumed, I could not help 
thinking that there is something very grand 
in having the profound sea for a tomb. (Jod 
seemed nearer in that solitude than in the 
crowded city. 

As I w*as going down to my cabin a 
little later I met one of the officers, who 








From rtj 


said, "Not been taking the funeral, have 

« Yes," r replied 

" Well, it's your own look-out, and you 
have to take the risk yourself." 

A little farther down I came across one 
of the engineers, and he asked me the same 
question. I told him I had taken a few 

snap- shots, and he 
said, tl You have ? 
I wouldn't have done 
it for anything you 
could have given me/ 
" Why not ? )5 I 

" Don't you know 
that to photograph a 
funeral on board ship 
is about the most 
unlucky thing you 
could do ? Anyhow, 
it's your own risk, so 
it does not matter to 
me. Stilly I would 
not take such a risk 

Not being super- 
stitious, no harm 
accrued from my 

Gradually we got 
back again to our 
usual life on board, and to our. games and 
frivolities ; and by a few, perhaps, the solemn 
act of burying the dead had been forgotten 
ere we gained our first view of the beautiful 
1 able Bay, with the picturesque town and 
grand Table Mountain in the background, 
but on some of us, I feel sure, it will have a 
lasting influence. 


AT LHL Cl»bli gK Tllfc SERVICE. 


by Google 

Original from 


[ Wk shall he glad to receive Contributions to this section, and fo pay for such as are accepted] 

almost incredible positions assumed by the limbs 
and hotly tinder such circumstances. The four 
girls on the left apparently led off, and seem 
to be quite complacently perched in mid -air, but the 
trie j on the right arc decidedly unsteady in their 
alignment* whilst the young maid on the extreme 
flank is quite distressed in her uncertainly- The 
photograph was taken at the chateau of the Marquise 
de San Carlos, near Paris, by Miss Lilian Noble, of 
Slissinghurst Grange, Cranbrook. 


The accompanying photo, depicts an incident 
which, says the sender, Mr. Herbert S. Se liars, of 
25* Hertslet Road, Seven Sisters Road, HoJloway, 
N-, may be witnessed any afternoon at Torton, near 
Gi**\viTii I hints. ** Tom/' the subject of the photo., 
is the property of a dairyman well known in that 
district. \Yhi1st going the rounds, certain lady cus- 
tomers have been in the habit of giving the horse 
bread. Preceding his master, acid arriving al the 
houses of these good friends, he draws his float up on 
to the pavement, and then knocks at the door by 
raising the knocker with his mouth* and then letting 
it drop again. This he continues to do till the door 
is opened r when he receives bis well-earned reward. 

Here we have a group of merry - faced school- 
girls indulging in a jump arm-in-arm together, and 
the snap-shot gives us a very vivid idea of the 

Copyright, i&99, by George 

From a Plwto. by & W. FvA, Rickmantwortk. 


The photograph here reproduced 
shows a very unique freak of Nature. 
It represents an apple tree that was 
growing on October 12th last in Mr, 
Blake's garden, the Metropolitan 
Station - master at Rick mans worth 
( Herts}, and Us point of interest 
lies in the fact that although the 
tree is still in full blossom there are 
several ripe apples upon it at the 
same time. There w r ere several dozen 
other similar trees of the same age 
ui I fie 14.iTil1.-11, lml this is the only 
one that liore blossom and fruit at 
the same lime, The photograph was 
sent in by Mr. R. \V. Fisk, of Kick- 





Wilh ihe Sou clan reconquered and Khartoum 
itself fast reassurning that civilizing influence amungst 
the lril>es of the Upper Nile that General Gordon 
sacrificed so much lo accomplish, added interest has 
been taken in Gordon relics of late. The accom- 
panying photograph represents a book that win 
printed for the General in Khartoum> and was 
highly treasured hy him on account of it l>eing the 
first book ever printed there. The relic h now in 
the side keeping of ihe British Museum, where it is 
open to public inspection. The text, 
by the way, is in Arabic, 


II is well known that experiments with paper and 
a pair of scissors are often productive of the most 
wonderful results, but the design reproduced in the 
accompanying photograph is perhaps one of the most 
remarkable obtained under such conditions, and it has 
the additional novelty of having been cut out by an old 
lady of feeble sight. The original paper design was 
sent to us by Mr. M. A. Holmes, of 3, Alma Road, 
Canon bury, and tbe reproduction presented in these 
pages is from a photograph of it taken by us* 


Amongst the curiosities of The 
Strand a few months ago we gave 
an illustration of a section of a board 
taken from a wheat trough, worn 
hy wheat passing over ii. Here is a 
photograph, sent in by Mr. IS y ion liar- 
man, of the Tacorna Grain Company, 
Washington, showing a steeb plate, 4ft* 
square and Jin, thick, taken from a 
large elevator at Tacoma, that has 
actually had holes worn through it by 
wheat continually falling on it from a 
height of 4ft, 

Digitized by V-jOC 




Mr D. 1L W, Broad, of iS, Beatrice Road, Stroud 
Green, N., the sender of Ibis photograph, writes that 
it represents a curious piece of old ironwork which 
has recently come into his possession. It slips, he 
says, on to a candle, the spike in the middle going 
into the wax at any place you like to adjust it. The 
object is apparently to automatically extinguish the 
candle, should the sleeper leave it alight on retiring. 
When the wax is burnt away the spike is released, 
thus bringing down the extinguisher* The candle 
in the photo- is standing in an old brass tinder-box. 




— ■ — vIm 






This photograph, sent in by Mr* If. Clifford, of 
236, 52nd Street, Brooklyn, New York, shows how 
they grow beetroots in California, The largest of the 
two roots displayed is over 5ft. in height, as may lie 
estimated by comparison with the young lady standing 

pt% v \ JRl 

wF\ i o-t^L It* SB AfF^B^^^ 

i 1 Bh * 




alongside It, and it is estimated that it will tip the 
beam at over 20Olb. Beetroots of this size are 
naturally not quite so tender as the smaller kind one 
is accustomed to receive at table ; in fact, in order 
to slice them it might be necessary to use an axe or 
a circular saw. Mr. Boker, who grew these, says 
that there need he no (ear of any denudation of 
our forests, as he can raise a good -sized one under- 
ground in the course of a season. 


This little snap-shot requires quite an amount of 
scrutiny to decipher* It has been sent in by Mr. 
Andrew K. Pearson, of 8, Cobden Road, Newinglon, 
Edinburgh, who took it on the Garcloch, at Shandon, 
in August last. It re pi use n Is a sailing yacht travel- 
ling from left to right, and throwing shadows so 
remarkably well defined that if the picture be 
turned upside down it appears almost the same. 
When turned end on — as it now stands — it might be 
mistaken for a bat or a butterfly, or even a moth* 
Being reversed again, curiously enough it still retains 
the same likeness. 

by Google 

From a Photo, by lidli* *£■ &ma. 

That music hath charms may undoubtedly be true, 
but it is difficult to understand how one could enjoy 
the harmony, however dulcet it might be, evolved 
from such an instrument as is shown in the above 
photograph* It consists of the major portion of a 
human skull, over which is stretched a sheet of sheep's 
skin for sounding- board 1 |x>rtion of the leg- bone as 
key-lnxirdj with bits of the small bones of the arms 
for keys. This curiosity belongs to Mr* A, L J. 
Harwoud, of 87, Park Street, Camden Town, 
N«W«, and was sent to him as a native product 
from Durban, South Africa, on July 5th last, by 
Mr. a Wilson. 

Original from 




Certainly a very unlooked-for effect is to be found 
in l he photograph of the lady's face here reproduced, 
which has been sent in by Mr, Kdward lJuxfield, of 
Kton House, Hasfordj Stoke-on-Trent* On holding 
the pic lure upside down another face may he distinctly 
traced, whose presence is purely the result of certain 
Combined shaded effects. The mouth is the same in 
both feces. The photo, was taken in the garden 

about mid -day, 


The interest attached lo the next photograph we 
reproduce docs not lie in I he subject illustrated, but 
in the fact lhal it was taken by a very primitive sort 
of camera, made out of an old cigar-box, with a pill- 

A very curie his study in perspective is afforded by 
our next photograph, which was taken by Mr. E. 
Ford , of Bridge llace, Ik x ley, Kent, whilst leaning out 
of a railway carriage window in the rear part of a train. 
A curve was lieing rounded just at the moment the 
snap-shot was taken, and in The distance the locomo- 
tives may be seen just about to pass over one of the 
newly built granite bridges in Cornwall. Owing to the 
hilly nature of the countiy, all the main line trains are 
drawn by two engines, Mr, Ford says that they 
were travelling at the rate of about thirty miles when 
he took the photograph. 

box pierced at one end by a pin prick instead uf a lens, 
the lid of the pill-box being retained as the cap* At 
the back of the camera was an arrangement for the 
reception of the plate, and the whole was enveloped 

in cloth. This novel apfmratus was made by the 
thirteen-year-old son of Mrs. C L, Taylor, of 40, 
Nichols Street, West Bromwich, who forwarded it 
for our inspc^pFraJnaJ from 


("""rw^nL'' Original from 



(See page 133.} 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xvii. 

FEBRUARY, 1899. 

No. 98, 

Round the Fire. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

Y particular friend Ward Morti- 
mer was one of the best men 
of his day at everything con- 
nected with Oriental arch- 
aeology. He had written 
largely upon the subject, he 
had lived two years in a tomb at Thebes, 
while he had excavated in the Valley of the 
Kings, and finally he had created a consider- 
able sensation by his exhumation of the 
alleged mummy of Cleopatra in the inner 
room of the Temple of Horus, at Philae. 
With such a record at the age of thirty-one, 
it was felt that a considerable career lay 
before him, and no one was surprised when 
he was elected to the curatorship of the 
Belmore Street Museum, which carries with 
it the lectureship at the Oriental College, and 
an income which has sunk with the fall in 
land, but which still remains at that ideal 
sum which is large enough to encourage an 
investigator, and not so large as to enervate 

There was only one reason which made 
Ward Mortimer's position a little difficult at 
the Belmore Street Museum, and that was 
the extreme eminence of the man whom he 
had to succeeu. Professor Andreas was a 
profound scholar and a man of European 
reputation. His lectures were frequented by 
students from every part of the world, and 
his admirable management of the collection 
intrusted to his care was a commonplace in 
all learned societies. There was, therefore, 
considerable surprise when, at the age of 
fifty-five, he suddenly resigned his position 
and retired from those duties which had been 
both his livelihood and his pleasure. He 
and his daughter left the comfortable suite 
of rooms which had formed his official 
residence in connection with the museum, 
and my friend, Mortimer, who was a bachelor, 
took up his quarters there. 

On hearing of Mortimer's appointment 

VmI. *vii -ie 

Copyright, 1890, by George Newnes, Limitcu, 


Professor Andreas had written him a very 
kindly and flattering congratulatory letter, but 
I was actually present at their first meeting, and 
I went with Mortimer round the museum when 
the Professor showed us the admirable collec- 
tion which he had cherished so long. The Pro- 
fessor's beautiful daughter and a young man, 
Captain Wilson, who was, as I understood, 
soon to be her husband, accompanied us in 
ourinspection. Therewere fifteen rooms in all, 
but the Babylonian, the Syrian, and the central 
hall, which contained the Jewish and Egyptian 
collection, were the finest of all. Professor 
Andreas was a quiet, dry, elderly man, with a 
clean-shaven face and an impassive manner, 
but his dark eyes sparkled and his features 
quickened into enthusiastic life as he pointed 
out to us the rarity and the beauty of some 
of his specimens. His hand lingered so 
fondly over them, that one could read his 
pride in them and the grief in his heart now 
that they were passing from his care into that 
of another. 

He had shown us in turn his mummies, 
his papyri, his rare scarabs, his inscriptions, 
his Jewish relics, and his duplication of the 
famous seven-branched candlestick of the 
Temple, which was brought to Rome by 
Titus, and which is supposed by some to be 
lying at this instant in the bed of the Tiber. 
Then he approached a case which stood in 
the very centre of the hall, and he looked 
down through the glass with reverence in his 
attitude and manner. 

" This is no novelty to an expert like your- 
self, Mr. Mortimer," said he ; " but I daresay 
.that your friend, Mr. Jackson, will be 
interested to see it." 

Leaning ov^r the case I saw an object, 

some five inches square, which consisted of 

twelve precious stones in a framework of 

gold, with golden hooks at two of the corners. 

The stones were all varying in sort and 

colour, but they were of the same size, 
mal from 




Their shapes, arrangement, and gradation of 
tint made me think of a box of water-colour 
paints. Each stone had some hieroglyphic 
scratched upon its surface. 

"You have heard, Mr. Jackson, of the 
urirn and thummim ? " 

I had heard the term, but my idea of its 
meaning was exceedingly vague, 

"The urim and thummim was a name 
given to the jewelled plate which lay U[H>n 
the breast of the high priest of the Jews. 
They had a very special feeling of reverence 
for it — something of the feeling which an 
ancient Roman might have for the Sibylline 
books in the Capitol. There are, as you see, 
twelve magnificent stones, inscribed with 
mystical characters. Counting from the left- 
hand top corner, the stones are carnelian, 
peridot, emerald, ruby, lapis lazuli, onyx, 
sapphire, agate, amethyst, topaz, beryl, and 

I was amazed at the variety and beauty of 
the stones. 

" Has the breast - plate any particular 
history ? n I asked. 

"It is of great age and of immense 
value," said Professor Andreas. "Without 

SAfp fppKF„SBOR ANDREA*/' . ^ ( \^> 

being able to make an absolute assertion, we 
have many reasons to think that it is pos- 
sible that it may be the original urim and 
thummim of Solomon's Temple, There is 
certainly nothing so fine in any collection in 
Europe. My friend, Captain Wilson here, 
is a practical authority upon precious stones, 
and he would tell you how pure these are.*' 

Captain Wilson, a man with a dark, hard, 
incisive face, was standing heside his fiancie 
at the other side of the case, 

" Yes," said he, curtly t £t I have never 
seen finer stones," 

li And the gold-work is also worthy of 

attention. The ancients excelled in »" — 

he was apparently about to indicate the 
setting of the stones, when Captain Wilson 
interrupted him. 

11 You will see a finer example of their 
gold- work in this candlestick,' 1 said he, 
turning to another table, and we all joined 
him in his admiration of its embossed stem 
and delicately ornamented branches. Alto- 
gether it was an interesting and a novel 
experience to have objects of such rarity 
explained by so great an expert ; and when, 
finally, Professor Andreas finished our in- 
spection by formally 
handing over the pre- 
cious collection to the 
care of my friend, I 
could not help pitying 
him and envying his 
successor whose life was 
to pass in so pleasant 
a duty. Within a week, 
Ward Mortimer was 
duly installed in his 
new set of rooms, and 
had become the auto- 
crat of the Bel more 
Street Museum. 

About a fortnight 
afterwards my friend 
gave a small dinner to 
half-a-dozen bachelor 
friends to celebrate his 
promotion. When his 
guests were departing 
he pulled my sleeve 
and signalled to me 
that he wished me to 

" You have only a 
few hundred yards to 
go/* said he - I was 
living in chambers in 
the Albany, "You 
laMwnfes well stay and 




have a quiet cigar with nie. I very much 
want your advice." 

I relapsed into an arm-chair and lit one 
of his excellent Matronas* When he had 
returned from seeing the last of his guests 
out, he drew a letter from his dress-jacket and 
sat down opposite to me. 

"This is an anonymous letter which I 
received this morning/' said he. " I want to 
read it to you and to have your advice," 

" You are very welcome to it for what it is 

"This is how the note runs: * Sir,- —I 
should strongly advise you to keep a very 
careful watch over the many valuable things 
which are committed to your charge. I do 
not think that the present system of a single 
watchman is sufficient. Be upon your guard, 
or an irreparable misfortune may occur/ " 

"Is that all?" 

"Yes, that k all/' 

"Well," said I, "it is at 
least obvious that it was 
written by one of the limited 
number of people who are 
aware that you have only one 
watchman at night/' 

Ward Mortimer handed 
me the note, with a curious 
.smile. " Have you an eye 
for handwriting?" said he. 
M Now, look at this ! " He 
put another letter in front 
of me, " Look at the c in 
1 congratulate ' and the c in 
'committed/ Look at the 
capital /, Look at the trick 
of putting in a dash instead 
of a stop 1 " 

"They are undoubtedly 
from the same hand with 
some attempt at disguise in 
the case of this first one," 

"The second," said Ward 
Mortimer, "is the letter of 
congratulation which was 
written to me by Professor 
Andreas upon my obtaining 
my appointment. 1 ' 

I stared at him in amaze- 
ment. Then 1 turned over the letter in my 
hand, and there, sure enough, was "Martin 
Andreas" signed upon the other side. There 
could be no doubt, in the mind of anyone 
who had the slightest knowledge of the 
science of graphology, that the Professor 
had written an anonymous letter, warning his 
successor against thieves. It was inexplicable, 
but jt was certain, 

Digitized by GoOgle 

" Why should he do it ? " I asked, 

" Precisely what I should wish to ask you. 
If he had any such misgivings, why could he 
not come and tell me direct ? " 

" Will you speak to him about it ? " 

"There again I am in doubt He might 
choose to deny that he wrote it." 

"At any rate/ 5 said I, "this warning is 
meant in a friendly spirit, and I should 
certainly act upon it. Are the present pre- 
cautions enough to insure you against 
robbery ? " 

bt I should have thought so. The public 
are only admitted from ten till five, and there 
is a guardian to every two rooms. He stands 
at the door between them, and so commands 
them both," 

"Rut at night?" 

"When the public are gone, we at once 


put up the great iron shutters, which ate 

absolutely burglar-proof. The watchman Ls 

a capable fellow. He sits in the lodge, but 

he walks round every three hours. We keep 

one electric light burning in each room all 


h 'It is difficult to suggest anything more 

short of keeping your day watchers all night/ 5 

"We could not afford that." 




" At least, I should communicate with the 
police, and have a special constable put on 
outside in Belmore Street," said I. " As to 
the letter, if the writer wishes to be anony- 
mous, I think he has a right to remain so. 
We must trust to the future to show some 
reason for the curious course which he has 

So we dismissed the subject, but all that 
night after my return to my chambers I was 
puzzling my brain as to what possible motive 
Professor Andreas could have for writing an 
anonymous warning letter to his successor — 
for that the writing was his was as certain to 
me as if I had seen him actually doing it. 
He foresaw some danger to the collection. 
Was it because he foresaw it that he aban- 
doned his charge of it ? But if so, why 
should he hesitate to warn Mortimer in 
his own name ? I puzzled and puzzled 
until at last I fell into a troubled sleep, 
which carried me beyond my usual hour of 

I was aroused in a singular and effective 
method, for about nine o'clock my friend 
Mortimer rushed into my room with an 
expression of consternation upon his face. 
He was usually one of the most tidy men of 
my acquaintance, but now his collar was 
undone at one end, his tie was flying, and 
his hat at the back of his head. I read his 
whole story in his frantic eyes. 

" The museum has been robbed ! " I 
cried, springing up in bed. 

" I fear so ! Those jewels ! The jewels 
of the urim and thummim ! " he gasped, for 
he was out of breath with running. " I'm 
going on to the police-station. Come to 
the museum as soon as you can, Jackson ! 
Good-bye ! " He rushed distractedly out of 
the room, and I heard him clatter down 
the stairs. 

I was not long in following his directions, 
but I found when I arrived that he had 
already returned with a police inspector, and 
another elderly gentleman, who proved to be 
Mr. Purvis, one of the partners of Morson 
and Company, the well-known diamond 
merchants. As an expert in stones he was 
always prepared to advise the police. They 
were grouped round the case in which the 
breast-plate of the Jewish priest had been 
exposed. The plate had been taken out and 
laid upon the glass top of the case, and the 
three heads were bent over it. 

" It is obvious that it has been tampered 
with," said Mortimer. " It caught my eye 
the moment that I passed through the room 
this morning. I examined it yesterday even- 

h 'Google 

ing, so that it is certain that this has happened 
during the night." 

It was, as he had said, obvious that some- 
one had been at work upon it. The settings 
of the uppermost row of four stones- the 
carnelian, peridot, emerald, and ruby — were 
rough and jagged as if someone had scraped 
all round them. The stones were in their 
places, but the beautiful gold work which we 
had admired only a few days before had been 
very clumsily pulled about. 

" It looks to me," said the police inspector, 
"as if someone had been trying to take out 
the stones." 

" My fear is," said Mortimer, " that he 
not only tried, but succeeded. I believe 
these four stones to be skilful imitations 
which have been put in the place of the 

The same suspicion had evidently been in 
the mind of the expert, for he had been care- 
fully examining the four stones with the 
aid of a lens. He now submitted them to 
several tests, and finally turned cheerfully to 

" I congratulate you, sir," said he, heartily. 
" I will pledge my reputation that all four of 
these stones are genuine, and of a most un- 
usual degree of purity." 

The colour began to come back to my 
poor friend's frightened face, and he drew a 
long breath of relief. 

" Thank God ! " he cried, " Then what 
in the world did the thief want ? " 

"Probably he meant to take the stones, 
but was interrupted." 

"In that case one would expect him to 
take them out one at a time, but the setting 
of each of these has been loosened, and 
yet the stones are all here." 

" It is certainly most extraordinary," said 
the inspector. " I never remember a case 
like it. Let us see the watchman." 

The commissionaire was called — a sol- 
dierly, honest-faced man, who seemed as 
concerned as Ward Mortimer at the inci- 

" No, sir, I never heard a sound," he 
answered, in reply to [the questions of the 
inspector. " I made my rounds four times, 
as usual, but I saw nothing suspicious. I've 
been in my position ten years, but nothing of 
the kind has ever occurred before." 

" No thief could have come through the 
windows ? " 

" Impossible, sir." 

" Or passed you at the door ? " 

" No, sir ; I never left my post except 
when I walked my round^ m 




" What other openings arc there Into the 
museum ? " 

u There is the door into Mr. Ward Morti- 
mer's private rooms/' 

" That is locked at night," my friend 
explained, "and in order to reach it anyone 
from the street would have to open the out- 
side door as well/* 

u Your servants ? w 

"■Their quarters are entire!) separate." 

"Well, well," said the inspector, "this is 
certainly very obscure. However, there has 
been no harm done, according to Mr. 
Purvis/ 1 

" I will swear that those stones are 

" So that the case appears to be merely 


one of malicious damage, But none the less, 
I should be very glad to go carefully round 
the premises, and to see if we can find any 
trace to show us who your visitor may have 

His investigation, which lasted all the 
morning, was careful and intelligent, but it 
led in the end to nothing. He pointed out 
to us that there were two possible entrances 
to the museum which we had not considered, 
The one was from the cettars 


opening in the passage. The other through 
a skylight from the lumber-room, overlooking 
that very chamber to which the intruder had 
[>enetrated. As neither the cellar nor the 
lumber-room could be entered unless the 
thief was already within the locked doors, 
the matter was not of any practical import 
anee, and the dust of cellar and attic assured 
Us that no one had used either one or tin- 
other. Finally, we ended as we began, with- 
out the slightest clue as to how, why, or by 
whom the setting of these four jewels had 
been tampered with. 

There remained one course for Mortimer 
to take, and he took it. Leaving the police 
to continue their fruitless researches, he 
asked me to accompany him that afternoon 
in a visit to Professor Andreas. 
He took with him the two 
letters, and it was his inten- 
tion to openly tax his pre- 
decessor with having written 
the anonymous warning, and 
to ask him to explain the fact 
that he should have antici- 
pated so exactly that which 
had actually occurred. The 
Professor was living in a small 
villa in Upper Norwood, but 
we were informed by the 
servant that he was away 
from home. Seeing our dis- 
appointment, she asked us if 
we should like to see Miss 
Andreas, and showed us 
into the modest drawing- 

I have mentioned inch 
dentally that the Pro- 
fessor's daughter was a 
very beautiful girl. She 
was a blonde, tall and 
graceful, with a skin of 
that delicate tint which 
the French call "mat," 
the colour of old ivory 
or of the lighter petals 
of the sulphur rose. I 
was shocked, however, as she entered the 
room to see how much she had changed in 
the last fortnight, Her young face was 
haggard and her bright eyes heavy with 

11 Father has gone to Scotland," she 
said, '* He seems to be tired, and has had 
a good deal to worry him. He only left 
us yesterday." 

u You look a little tired yourself, Miss 
AndreaSj"i;§ri(iiBjrl W^flnJ* 




lb I \\a\x\ been so anxious about father, 71 

"Can you give me his Scotch address? n 

"Yes, he is with his brother, the Rev. 
David Andreas, i, Arran Villas, Ardrossan." 

Ward Mortimer made a note of the 
address, and we left without saying anything 
as to the object of our visit. We found our- 
selves in Relmore Street in the evening in 
exactly the same position in which we had 
been in the morning, Our only clue was 
the Professor's letter, and my friend had 
made up his mind to start for Ardrossan 
next day, and to get to the bottom of the 
anonymous letter, when a new development 
came to alter our plans. 

Very early upon the following morning 
I was aroused from my sleep by a tap upon 
my bedroom door. It was a messenger with 
a note from Mortimer. 

" Do come round," it said ; "the matter is 
becoming more and more extraordinary." 

When I obeyed his summons I found him 
pacing excitedly up and down the central 
room, while the old soldier who guarded the 
premises stood with military stiffness in a 

" My dear Jackson/ 1 
he cried, " I am so 
delighted that you have 
come, for this is a 
most inexplicable busi- 

" What has happened, 
then?' 1 

He waved his hand 
towards the case which 
contained the breast- 

" Look at it," said 

I did so, and could 
not restrain a cry of 
surprise. The setting 
of the middle row of 
precious stones had 
been profaned in the 
same manner as the 
upper ones- Of the 
twelve jewels, eight had 
been now* tampered 
with in this singular 
fashion. The setting 
of the lower four was 
tttill neat and smooth. 
The others jagged and 

" Have the stones 
been altered?" J 

" No, I am certain that these upper Tour 
are the same which the expert pronounced 
to be genuine, for I observed yesterday that 
little discoloration on the edge of the 
emerald. Since they have not extracted the 
upper stones, there is no reason to think that 
the lower have been transposed, You say 
that you heard nothing, Simpson?" 

"No, sir," the commissionaire answered, 
" But when I made my round after daylight 
I had a special look at these stones, and I 
saw at once that someone had been meddling 
with them. Then I called you, sir, and told 
you. I was backwards and forwards all the 
night, and 1 never saw a soul or heard a 

"Come up and have some breakfast with 
me/' said Mortimer, and he took me into his 
own chambers* 

" Now, what dk you think of this, Jackson ? " 
he asked. 

" It is the most objectless, futile, idiotic 
business that ever I heard of. It can only 
be the work of a monomaniac," 

" Can you put forward any theory ? " 

/TT-'ft -vl>-r'^ r ,|£ ^ 

- *» > » - — 



; never saw a sou i. °«®tfft]'frf9 l t lJ fr©1TI 




A curious idea came into my head. " This 
object is a Jewish relic of great antiquity 
and sanctity, ,, said I. " How about the 
anti-Semitic movement ? Could one conceive 
that a fanatic of that way of thinking might 
desecrate " 

" No, no, no ! " cried* Mortimer. " That 
will never do ! Such a man might push his 
lunacy to the length of destroying a Jewish 
relic, but why on earth should he nibble 
round every stone so carefully that he can 
only do four stones in a night ? We must 
have a better solution than that, and we must 
find it for ourselves, for I 'do not think that 
our inspector is likely to help us. First of 
all, what do you think of Simpson, the 
porter ? " 

" Have you any reason to suspect him ? " 

" Only that he is the one person on the 

"But why* should he indulge in such 
wanton destruction ? Nothing has been 
taken away. He has no motive." 


" No, I will swear to his sanity." 

" Have you any other theory ? " 

" Well, yourself, for example. You are not 
a somnambulist, by any chance?" 

" Nothing of the sort, I assure you." 

"Then I give it up." 

"But I don't- and I have a plan by 
which we will make it all clear." 

"To visit Professor Andreas ? " 

"No, we shall find our solution nearer 
than Scotland. I will tell you what we shall 
do. You know that skylight which over 2 
looks the central hall ? We will leave the 
electric lights in the hall, and we will keep 
watch in the lumber-room, you and I, and 
solve the mystery for ourselves. If our 
mysterious visitor is doing four stones at a 
time, he has four still to do, and there is 
every reason to think that he will return to- 
night and complete the job." 

"Excellent!" I cried. 

" We shall keep our own secret, and say 
nothing either to the police or to Simpson. 
Will you join me ? " 

" With the utmost pleasure," said I, and so 
it was agreed. 

It was ten o'clock that night when I re- 
turned to the Belmore Street Museum. 
Mortimer was, as I could see, in a state of 
suppressed nervous excitement, but it was still 
too early to begin our vigil, so we remained 
for an hour or so in his chambers, discussing 
all the possibilities of the singular business 
which we had met to solve. At last the 
roaring stream of hansom cabs and the rush 

Vol. xvii.— 17 

of hurrying feet became lower and more 
intermittent as the pleasure-seekers passed 
on their way to their stations or their homes. 
It was nearly twelve when Mortimer led the 
way to the lumber-room which overlooked 
the central hall of the museum. 

He had visited it during the day, and had 
spread some sacking so that we could lie at 
our ease, and look straight down into the 
museum. The skylight was of unfrosted 
glass, but was so covered with dust that it 
would be impossible for anyone looking up 
from below to detect that he was overlooked. 
We cleared a small piece at each corner, 
which gave us a complete view of the room 
beneath us. In the cold, white light of the 
electric lamps everything stood out hard and 
clear, and I could see the smallest detail of 
the contents of the various cases. 

Such a vigil is an excellent lesson, since 
one has no choice but to look hard at those 
objects which we usually pass with such half- 
hearted interest. Through my little peep- 
hole I employed the hours in studying every 
specimen, from the huge mummy-case which 
leaned against the wall to those very 
jewels which had brought us there, which 
gleamed and sparkled in their glass case 
immediately beneath us. There was much 
precious gold-work and many valuable stones 
scattered through the numerous cases, but 
those wonderful twelve which made up the 
urim and thummim glowed and burned 
with a radiance which far eclipsed the others. 
I studied in turn the tomb-pictures of Sicara, 
the friezes from Karnak, the statues of 
Memphis, and the inscriptions of Thebes, 
but my eyes would always come back to that 
wonderful Jewish relic, and my mind to the 
singular mystery which surrounded it. I was 
lost in the thought of it when my companion 
suddenly drew his breath sharply in, and 
seized my arm in a convulsive grip. At the 
same instant I saw what it was which had 
excited him. 

I have said that against the wall - on the 
right-hand side of the doorway (the right- 
hand side as we looked at it, but the left as 
one entered) — there stood a large mummy- 
case. To our unutterable amazement it was 
slowly opening. Gradually, gradually, the lid 
was swinging back, and the black slit which 
marked the opening was becoming wider and 
wider. So gently and carefully was it done 
that the movement was quite imperceptible. 
Then, as we breathlessly watched it, a white, 
thin hand appeared at the opening, pushing 
back the painted lid, then another hand, and 
finally a face - % face which was familiar to 




usboth, that ofProfessor Andreas. Stealthily 
he slunk out of the mummy-ease, like a fox 
stealing J'mni its l>um>\v, his lu\ul aiming 
incessantly to left and to right, stepping, 
then pausing, then stepping again, the very 
image of craft and of caution. Once some 
sound in the street struck him motionless, 
and he stood listening, with his ear turned, 
ready to dart back to the shelter behind him. 
Then he crept onwards again upon tiptoe, 
very, very softly and slowly, until he had 
reached the case in the centre of the room. 
Then he took a bunch of keys from his 
pocket, unlocked 

the case, took out 

the Jewish breast- 
plate, and, laying it 
upon the glass in 
front of him, began 
to work upon it 
with some sort of 
small, glistening 
tool. He was so 
directly underneath 
us that his bent 
head covered his 
work, but we could 
guess from the 
movement of bis 
hand that he was 
engaged in finishing 
the strange disfigure- 
ment which he had 

I could realize 
from the heavy 
breathing of rny 
companion, and the 
twitchings of the 
hand which still 
clutched my wrist, 
the furious indigna- 
tion which filled his 
heart as he saw 
this vandalism in 
the very quarter of 
all others where he 
could least have ex- 
pected it. He, the 
very man who a 
fortnight before had 
reverently bent over 
this unique relic, 

and who had impressed its antiquity and its 
sanctity upon us, was now engaged in this 
out rage (jus profanation. It was impossible, 
unthinkable — and yet there, in the white 
glare of the electric light beneath us, was that 
dark figure with the bent, grey head, and the 


t, gr,v head, and .h 

twitching elbow. What inhuman hypocrisy, 
what hateful depth of malice against his suc- 
cessor must underlie these sinister nocturnal 
labours, It was painful to think of and 
dreadful to watch. Even I, who had none of 
the acute feelings of a virtuoso, could not 
bear to look on and see this deliberate 
mutilation of so ancient a relic. It was a 
relief to me when my companion tugged at 
my sleeve as a signal that I was to follow 
him as he softly crept out of the room. It 
was not until we were within his own quarters 
that he opened his lips, and then I saw by 

his agitated face 
how deep was his 

£ * The abomin- 
able Colli ! '" he 
cried. " Could you 
have believed it ? w 
"It is amazing," 
11 He is a villain 
or a lunatic- one 
or the other, We 
shall very soon see 
which. Come with 
me, Jackson, and 
we shall get to the 
bottom of this black 

A door opened 
out of the passage 
which was the pri- 
vate entrance from 
his rooms into the 
museum. This he 
opened softly with 
his key, having first 
kicked off his shoes, 
an example which 
I followed. We 
crept together 
through room after 
room, until the large 
hall hy before us, 
with that dark 
figure still stooping 
and working at the 
central case. With 
an ad v a n c e as 
cautious as his own 
we closed in upon 
him, but softly as 
we went we could not take him entirely 
unawares. We were still a dozen yards from 
him when he looked round with a start, and 
uttering a husky cry of terror, ran frantically 
down the museum. 

" Simpso^I'riSpnpt^rdn 1 ! roared Mortimer, 




and faT away down the vista of electric- 
lighted doors we saw the stiff figure of the 
old soldier suddenly appear. Professor 
Andreas saw him also, and stopped running, 
with a gesture of despair. At the same 
instant we each laid a hand upon his shoulder. 

u Yes, yes, gentlemen," he panted, " I will 
come with you. To your room, Mr, Ward 
Mortimer, if you please! I feel that I owe 
you an explanation." 

My companion's indignation was so great 
that I could see that he dared not trust 
himself to reply. We walked on each side 
of the old Professor, the astonished com- 
missionaire bringing up the rear. When we 
reached the violated case, Mortimer stopped 
and examined the breast -plate. Already one 
of the stones of the lower row had had its 
setting turned back in the same manner as 
the others. My friend held it up and 
glanced furiously at his prisoner. 

" How could you ! H he cried. " How 
could you ! w 

tf It is horrible — horrible ! " said the 
Professor. " I don't wonder at your feelings. 
Take me to your room," 

" But this shall not be left exposed ! " 
cried Mortimer. He picked the breast- 
plate up and carried it tenderly in his hand, 
while I walked beside the Professor, like a 
policeman with a malefactor. We passed 
into Mortimer's cham- 
bers, leaving the amazed 
old soldier to understand 
matters as best he could. 
The Professor sat down 
in Mortimer's arm-chair, 
and turned so ghastly 
a colour that, for the 
instant, all our resent- 
ment was changed to 
concern, A stiff glass of 
brandy brought the life 
back to him once more, 

" There, I am better 
now ! u said he. " These 
last few days have been 
too much for me, I am 
convinced that I could 
not stand it any longer* 
It is a nightmare — a 
horri bl e n ight ma re — that 
1 should be arrested as a 
burglar in what has been 
for so long my own 
museum. And yet I 
cannot blame you. You 
could not have done 
otherwise. My hope 

always was that I should get it all over 
before I was detected. This would have 
been my last nights work." 

u How did you get in?" asked Mortimer. 

M By taking a very great liberty with your 
private door. But the object justified it. 
The object justified everything. You will 
not be angry when you know everything— at 
least, you will not be angry with me. I had 
a key to your side door and also to the 
museum door. I did not give them up 
when I left* And so you see it was not 
difficult for me to let myself into the museum, 
I used to come in early before the crowd 
had cleared from the street. Then I hid 
myself in the mummy-case, and took refuge 
there whenever Simpson came round. I 
could always hear him coming. I used to 
leave in the same way as I came." 

u You ran a risk/' 

" I had to." 

"l!ut why? What on earth was your 
object you to do a thing like that ! " 
Mortimer pointed reproachfully at the plate 
which lay before him on the table, 

" I could devise no other means. I 
thought and thought a but there was no alter- 






native except a hideous public scandal, 
and a private sorrow which would have 
clouded our lives. I acted for the best, 
incredible as it may seem to you, and I 
only ask your attention to enable me to 
prove it." 

" I will hear what you have to say before 
I take any further steps," said Mortimer, 

" I am determined to hold back nothing, 
and to take you both completely into my 
confidence. I will leave it to your own 
generosity how far you will use the facts 
with which I supply you." 

" We have the essential facts already." 

"And yet you understand nothing. Let 
me go back to what passed a few weeks 
ago, and I will make it all clear to you. 
Believe me that what I say is the absolute 
and exact truth. 

" You have met the person who calls him- 
self Captain Wilson. I say 'calls himself 
because I have reason now to believe that 
it is not his correct name. It would take 
me too long if I were to describe all the 
means by which he obtained an introduction 
to me and ingratiated himself into my friend- 
ship and the affection of my daughter. He 
brought letters from foreign colleagues which 
compelled me to show him some attention. 
And then, by his own attainments, which are 
considerable, he succeeded in making him- 
self a very welcome visitor at my rooms. 
When I learned that my daughter's affections 
had been gained by him, I may have thought 
it premature, but I certainly was not sur- 
prised, for he had a charm of manner and of 
conversation which would have made him 
conspicuous in any society. 

" He was much interested in Oriental an- 
tiquities, and his knowledge of the subject 
justified his interest. Often when he spent 
the evening with us he would ask permission 
to go down into the museum and have an 
opportunity of privately inspecting the various 
specimens. You can imagine that I, as an 
enthusiast, was in sympathy with such a 
request, and that I felt no surprise at the 
constancy of his visits. After his actual 
engagement to Elise, there was hardly ah 
evening which he did not pass with us, and 
an hour or two were generally devoted to the 
museum. He had the free run of the place, 
and when I have been away for the evening 
I had no objection to his doing whatever he 
wished here. This state of things was only 
terminated by the fact of my resignation of 
my official duties and my retirement to 
Norwood, where I hoped to have the leisure 

to write a considerable work which I had 

" It was immediately after this — within a 
week or so — that I first realized the true 
nature and character of the man whom I had 
so imprudently introduced into my family. 
The discovery came to me through letters 
from my friends abroad, which showed me 
that his introductions to me had been 
forgeries. Aghast at the revelation, I 
asked myself what motive this man could 
originally have had in practising this elabo- 
rate deception upon me. I was too poor a 
man for any fortune-hunter to have marked 
me down. Why, then, had he come? I 
remembered that some of the most precious 
gems in Europe had been under my charge, 
and I remembered also the ingenious excuses 
by which this man had made himself familiar 
with the cases in which they were kept. He 
was a rascal who was planning some gigantic 
robbery. How could I, without striking my 
own daughter, who was infatuated about him, 
prevent him from carrying out any plan which 
he might have formed ? My device was a 
clumsy one, and yet I could think of nothing 
more effective. If I had written a letter 
under my own name, you would naturally 
have turned to me for details which I did 
not wish to give. I resorted to an anony- 
mous letter begging you to be upon your 

" I may tell you that my change from Bel- 
more Street to Norwood had not affected the 
visits of this man, who had, I believe, a real 
and overpowering affection for my daughter. 
As to her, I could not have believed that any 
woman could be so completely under the 
influence of a man as she was. His stronger 
nature seemed to entirely dominate her. I 
had not realized how far this was the case, 
or the extent of the confidence which existed 
between them, until that very evening when 
his true character for the first time was made 
clear to me. I had given orders that when 
he called he should be shown into my study 
instead of to the drawing-room. There I told 
him bluntly that I knew all about him, that I 
had taken steps to defeat his designs, and 
that neither I nor my daughter desired ever 
to see him again. I added that I thanked 
God that I had found him out before he had 
time to harm those precious objects which 
it had been the work of my life-time to 

" He was certainly a man of iron nerve. He 
took my remarks without a sign either of 
surprise or of defiance, but listened gravely 
and attentively \zx\ \ 11 ilf tadi finished. Then 




he walked across the room without a word 
and struck the bell* 

Ui Ask Miss Andreas to be so kind as to 
step this way/ said he to the servant. 

" My daughter entered^ and the man closed 
the door behind her. Then he took her 
hand in his. 

" ' Elise/ mid he, 'your father has just 
discovered that I am a villain. He knows 
now what you knew before,' 

"She stood in silence, listening. 

44 * He says that we are to part for ever/ 
said he + 

"She did not withdraw her hand, 

(( ' Will you be true to me, or will you re- 
move the last good 
influence which is ever 
likely to come Into my 

"'John,' she cried, 
passionately, £ I will 
never abandon you ! 
Never, never, not if 
the whole world were 
against you/ 

" In vain I argued 
and pleaded with her. 
It was absolutely use- 
less. Her whole life 
was bound up in this 
niLin before me. My 
daughter, gentlemen, is 
all that I have left to 
love, and it filled me 
with agony when I saw 
how powerless I was 
to save her from her 
ruin. My helplessness 
seemed to touch this 
man who was the cause 
of my trouble, 

" * It may not be as 
bad as you think, sir,' 
said he, in bis quiet, 
inflexible way, *I love 
Elise with a love which 
is strong enough to 
rescue even one who has such a record as I 
have. It was but yesterday lhat 1 promised 
her that never again in my whole life would 
I do a thing of which she should be ashamed, 
I have made up my mind to it ? and never yet 
did I make up my mind to a thing which I 
did not do.' 

" He spoke with an air which carried con- 
viction with it. As he concluded he put his 
hand into his pocket and he drew out a small 
cardboard box. 

" * I am about to give you a proof of my 

determination,' said he. * This, Elise, shall 
be the first-fruits of your redeeming influence 
over me, You are right, sir, in thinking that 
I had designs upon the jewels in your 
possession. Such ventures have had a 
charm for me, which depended as much 
upon the risk run as upon the value of the 
prize. Those famous and antique stones 
of the Jewish priest were a challenge to my 
daring and my ingenuity* I determined to 
get them.' 

" * I guessed as much/ 

" * There was only one thing that you did 
not guess. 1 

"'And what is that?' 


" ( That I got them. They are in this box,' 

"He opened the box, and tilted out the 
contents upon the corner of my desk, My 
hair rose and my flesh grew cold as I looked. 
There were twelve magnificent square stones 
engraved with mystical characters. There 
could be no doubt that they were the jewels 
of the urim and thummim. 

"'Good God ! ' I cried, ' How have you 
escaped discovery ? ' 

(< 4 By ....the. substitution of twelve others, 
made espE^Anf 'ftS°rfSy order in which the 




originals are so carefully imitated that I defy 
the eye to detect the difference.' 

" ' Then the present stones are false ? } I 

" 'They have been for some weeks/ 

"We all stood in silence, my daughter white 
with emotion, but still holding this man by 
the hand. 

" ' You see what I am capable of, Elise,' 
said he. 

" * I see that you are capable of repentance 
and restitution/ she answered. 

" ' Yes, thanks to your influence ! I leave 
the stones in your hands, sir. Do what you 
like about it. But remember that whatever 
you do against me, is done against the future 
husband of your only daughter. You will 
hear from me soon again, Elise. It is the 
last time that I will ever cause pain to your 
tender heart,' and with these words he left 
both the room and the house. 

u My position was a dreadful one. Here I 
was with these precious relics in my posses- 
sion, and how could I return them without a 
scandal and an exposure ? 1 ^pew the depth 
of my daughter's nature too well to suppose 
that I would ever be able to detach her from 
this man now that she had entirely given 
him her heart. I was not even sure how far 
it was right to detach her if she had such an 
ameliorating influence over him. How could 
I expose him without injuring her — and how 
far was I justified in exposing him when he 
had voluntarily put himself into my power? 
I thought and thought, until at last I formed 
a resolution which may seem to you to be a 
foolish one, and yet, if I had to do it again, 
I believe it would be the best course open to 

" My idea was to return the stones without 
anyone being the wiser. With my keys I 
could get into the museum at any time, and 
I was confident that I could avoid Simpson, 
whose hours and methods were familiar to 
me. I determined to take no one into my 
confidence— not even my daughter- whom I 
told that I was about to visit my brother in 
Scotland. I wanted a free hand for a few 
nights, without inquiry as to my comings and 

goings. To this end I took a room in 
Harding Street that very night, with an inti- 
mation that I was a Pressman, and that 1 
should keep very late hours. 

" That night I made my way into the 
museum, and I replaced four of the stones. 
It was hard work, and took me all night. 
When Simpson came round I always heard 
his footsteps, and concealed myself in the 
mummy-case. I had some knowledge of 
gold-work, but was far less skilful than the 
thief had been. He had replaced the setting 
so exactly that I defy anyone to see the 
difference. My work was rude and clumsy. 
However, I hoped that the plate might not 
be carefully examined, or the roughness of the 
setting observed, until my task was done. 
Next night I replaced four more stones. And 
to-night I should have finished my task had 
it not been for the unfortunate circumstance 
which has caused me to reveal so much which 
I should have wished to keep concealed. I 
appeal to you, gentlemen, to your sense of 
honour and of compassion, whether what I 
have told you should go any farther or not. 
My own happiness, my daughter's future, 
the hopes of this man's regeneration, all de- 
pend upon your decision." 

" Which is," said my friend, " that all is 
well that ends well, and that the whole matter 
ends here and at once. To-morrow the loose 
settings shall be tightened by an expert gold- 
smith, and so passes the greatest danger to 
which, since the destruction of the Temple, 
the urim and thummim have been exposed. 
Here is my hand, Professor Andreas, and I 
can only hope that under such difficult 
circumstances I should have carried myself 
as unselfishly and as well." 

Just one footnote to this narrative. 
Within a month Elise Andreas was married 
to a man whose name, had I the indiscretion 
to mention it, would appeal to my readers as 
one who is now widely and deservedly 
honoured. But if the truth were know r n, that 
honour is due not to him but to the gentle 
girl who plucked him back when Jie had 
gone so far down that dark road along which 
few return. 

by Google 

Original from 


I / J ko4u. 

The Story of Cleopatra s Needle, 

By Susie Esplen, 

N London, on the embank- 
ment of the Thames, standing 
majestic in its great height 
and solidity, is that wonderful 
column of red granite known 
to all as Cleopatra's Needle. 
What a hi story is attached to the obelisk, 
a history which is as wonderful and strange 
as the Needle itself is antique, for its age 
chtes hack as far as 1,500 years before the 
Christian Era. We are told that u the 
child Moses may have played around the 
foot of this pillar: the Israelites looking 
citywards from the hrickfidds saw the sun- 
light glittering on its tapering point ; the 
plague of darkness clothed it as with a 
garment ; the plague of frogs croaked and 
squatted on its pediment ; the plague of 
locusts dashed themselves in flights against 
it, and unto its likeness the heart of Pharaoh 
was hardened. The sight of it takes us 
back to a time when the Pisgah sight of 
Canaan —was hut a promise with a desert and 
forty years between, " Connecting the history 
of the pillar with such ancient Biblical facts 
as these, we realize how really aged the 
Needle is ; but we have still to remember 
that it had been witness to events which 

took place many hundreds of years even 
before the days of Moses* 

When ThothmesIIL, called Egypt's greatest 
King, was in power he gave command for 
another pair of obelisks to be cut out of the 
quarries at Syrene and erected by the side 
of those already standing, which Rameses 
had set up before one of the many temples 
of the Sun which were in Heliopolis, 

Gazing thoughtlessly at the column one is 
prone to overlook the fact that this tre- 
mendous pillar is unlike other equally high 
columns in our land, as this one was not 
built up to its present height by stone being 
laid upon stone or block being placed upon 
block, until the desired height and form 
were attained, but from the first this was 
hewn out of its place in the quarry m one 
enormous mass. \\\t can, therefore, under- 
stand the difficult undertaking it would be 
to remove such a weight of granite from 
one place to the other in the days when 
steam was not in use. The quarries of 
Syrene were seven hundred miles from 
Hcliopolis. In an interesting hook on this 
subject written by the Rev. James King 
(anil to him I am indebted for much of this 
informationpNi^iha+rfranifnaccount of how in 


*3 6 


those early times the task of cutting out and 
removing this column was effected. 

He tells us that in an old quarry at Syrene 
there is to be seen an obelisk upon which the 
workmen were busy, when for some reason 
they were obliged to leave it only partially 
cut out From this it appears that when 
the quanymen wished to abstract a huge 
mass, such as the Needle would be, they 
marked out the form by cutting a deep groove, 
in which, at intervals, they made oblong 
holes. Into these holes they firmly wedged 
blocks of timber, and then, filling the grooves 
with water, the wood in time swelled and thus 
the granite cracked along the outline from 
wedge to wedge. Next came the difficulty 
of taking the Needle on its first journey, 
seven hundred mites up the river to the 
City of Heliopolis. When it lay ready for 
removal in the quarry, rollers made of palm 
trees were laid so that the column could be 
placed on them, and by this means it could 
be pushed down to the edge of the river, 
and there a raft was built round it. When 
the Nile overflowed its banks, this raft and 
its burden floated, and the stone was con- 
veyed to the nearest and most suitable point 
from which it could again be conveyed on 
rollers as before to the pedestal which 
was prepared for it to stand upon, and 
by the help of ropes and levers made 
from the date palm it was placed in 
position. So faultless was the work done by 
those men of old that, when the column was 
erected on the pedestal, both had been so 
accurately levelled, 
where the one 
fitted on the other, 
that the Needle 
when standing was 
perfectly true in 
the perpendicular. 

Mr, King con- 
tinues to inform 
us that in a grotto 
at El - Bershch is 
a representation 
showing the re- 
moval of a gigantic 
figure. The statue 
is placed on a 
sledge, and men 
are represented 
going before it 
pouring oil in 
grooves, along 
which the sledge 
slides, and by 
means of ropes 

four rows of men drag the figure along. And 
from this we learn the method of the 
column's first removal Once erected in 
Heliopolis before one of the many temples 
of the Sun, the Needle was allowed to 
remain there with its companion one for 
fourteen centuries. 

Twenty-three years before Christ, Augustus 
Ctesar ordered the removal of them from 
Heliopolis to Alexandria, and so the Needle 
came to be taken on its second journey. In 
Alexandria was a gorgeous palace of the 
Caesars, and before the palace the columns 
were set up. They are called Cleopatra's 
Needles, but in reality Cleopatra had no 
connection with their history. She may 
have helped to design the magnificent build- 
ing the front of which these obelisks adorned, 
and her devoted subjects wishing to give 
honour to the memory of their much-loved 
Queen gave the pillars her name. 

For fifteen centuries they were left to 
stand in this last-named position, which was 
close to the Port of Alexandria : and many 
years after the grand building of the Gesars 
had fallen in ruins, these two columns still 
stood. With years the sea had advanced to 
the base of the one in which we are more 
especially interested, and with the ever- 
advancing and receding waters the founda- 
tion of the Needle became so worn that 
three hundred years ago it fell to the ground 
unbroken and unharmed. 

In iKoi the French and English fought, 
and the latter, under Sir Ralph Abererombie, 

I'kiHlM' ur 

^u,.-n. E N 


\ rhttto, 



Frvttt a] 


were victorious, The battle having taken 
place within sight of the Needle, the English 
.soldiers conceived the desire to possess and 
take to England the fallen obelisk as a 
trophy of their success. So anxious were 
they to have this idea carried out, that they 
willingly gave up some of their payment, and 
collected ^£7,000 towards the expense of its 

The plan they adopted for its conveyance 
to England on this occasion was to build a 
pier seaward, and then, taking the Needle 
to the end of it, 
proposed putting 
it through the 
stern of an old 
French frigate 
which had been 
raised for the pur- 
pose. When the 
pier was partially 
built a great storm 
washed it away, 
and very soon 
after that the 
soldiers were 
ordered to leave 
Egypt, and the 
idea could not be 
carried out. How- 
ever, the Needle 
was removed a 
few feet, and a 
brass tablet was 
inserted bearing 

a record of the 

British victory. 
From this time 
the mind of the 
people appeared 
to be in a state of 
unrest concerning 
the Needle — an 
unrest which was 
not quieted until 
the column was 
brought to Eng- 
land and erected 
where it now 

When Oeorge 
IV, was reigning 
in England, Me- 
hemet Ali was 
ruling in Egypt, 
and he offered as 
a gift to the King 
this obelisk, 
George IV, for 
some reason did not accept the gift. When 
William IV. came to the throne it was again 
offered, with an additional favour, for he also 
promised to pay the cost for its transporta- 
tion. King William, like his predecessor, 
King Cieorge, thought it best to excuse 
himself from accepting the obelisk, so he 
also refused it. 

In 1849 the question was brought before 
the House of Commons, that the offer made 
by Mehemet Ali should be reconsidered and 
the obelisk brought to England, hut an 


i\i>r>. '* : 


nrTTiHG pw n@f-|^flffiSH from 




opposition party opposed the suggestion, con- 
sidering that the Needle would have become 
so defaced as to be not worth the risk and 
expense of removing it. 

Many years after, when the great Hyde 

English to remove it if they really valued 
its possession, other wist* they ran the risk 
of losing it altogether. In 1867 Sir James 
E. Alexander was attracted by the beauty 
of the column which was also presented 

J-'rom a] 

completing thk casikc. 

[ Photo. 

Park Demonstration was being held, it was 
again suggested that the obelisk should be 
transported, in honour of the Prince Consort, 
for his anxiety in trying to make the exhibition 
a success, but the idea again fell through. 
When the Sydenham Palace Company were 
planning their great pavilion they wished to 
have the Needle to place in the Egyptian 
department of the building, of course intend 
ing to pay for its transit. But it was against 
order to give a 
private company 
any gift which 
really belonged to 
the nation. 

The Needle all 
these years was 
still lying where 
the British Army 
left it, on the 
shore of the Bay 
of Alexandria, 
The ground on 
which it lay was 
sold, and a Greek 
merchant who 
had bought the 
land was anxious 
to have the 
column taken 
away. The Khe- 
dive advised the 

by Mehemet Ali to the French, and stands 
now in La Place de la Concorde, Remem- 
bering that the one belonging to the 
English was lying unheeded on the shores of 
Alexandria, he desired to have it brought 
over to England, and accordingly went to 
Egypt, gained an interview with the Khedive, 
and with him discussed its possession and 
removal. For ten years he was unwearying 
in his watch over the monument, arranging 




'CJrfginal from 




Fmi*i dj 


from lime to time with the owner of the land 
to allow it to remain where it was, hoping 
meanwhile to be able to make some arrange- 
ments concerning it so that it might be 
preserved for the English. 

He came to the opinion that if ever the 
obelisk was to be brought to England it 
would not be at the expense of the nation's 
purse* but would need to be paid for by 
private donations. With one or two friends, 
anxious like himself for the protection of the 
Needle, he intended w try and raise funds in 
the City. However, first meeting his friend, 
Professor Eras- 
mus Wilson, and 
explaining all to 
him, the Pro- 
fessor generously 
offered to pay the 
sum of ^"10,000, 
which was deem- 
ed sufficient for 
the purpose, 

In July of 1877 
workmen were 
once more busy 

in connection 

with this column 

which already 

had experienced 

such a history. 

The sand was 

removed from 

about it, and to 

the delight of 

those most inter- 

ested it was found 
to be in an excel- 
lent state of pre- 
servation. Next 
came the anxious 
task of removing 
it, something 
more being neces- 
sary than the raft, 
as of old, for the 
long sea voyage 
which lay before 

A paper might 
be written on the 
different methods 
arid numerous 
plans invented 
and suggested for 
the transportation 
of the Needle. Sir 
James Alexander 
had made the 
acquaintance of Mr. John Dixon, a civil 
engineer, and he, too, was interested in the 
monolith. Professor Erasmus Wilson and 
Mr. hixon \w-rr introduced ;md discussed 
the subject together, with the result that Mr, 
Dixon undertook the responsibility of the 
conveyance of the column to England, 
Professor Wilson arranging to pay the 
^10,000 on its erection in London. A 
construction was therefore carefully designed 
in England for encasing the Needle, so 
that it would be a sea craft of itself, and 
this was sent out to Egypt in pieces. 


From a 



THE FIRST ATTBHIT Al(l^g(ff\l^ fQ p(-| 


\ Photo. 



From a] 

ri.'i;s is AUfluN* 

One of the principal considerations when 
making their designs was that the Needle 
when encased required to be launched by 
being rolled Into the water, instead of being 
sent off in the usual way. Another of the 
chief difficulties to contend with in the 
removal of the obelisk was that the bay near 
which it was lying was unsafe for ships to 
anchor in, as it was exposed to severe gales 
and the ground was covered with shoals. 
The Needle was raised some feet above the 
ground, the smaller end swung round to be 
parallel with the sea, and when in this posi- 
tion the work of encasing it was done, 

When in this 
act of turning it, 
the ground ap- 
peared to be 
giving way under 
it, and, on ex- 
amination being 
made, it was 
found to be rest- 
ing on a small 
vault, which was 
6ft, long by 3ft* 
wide and 4 ft. 
high. It was 
evidently an 
ancient tomb, 
for two human 
skeletons and 
some small jars 
were found in 
the cavity. The 
skulls were pre- 
served and put p^m^ 

on board the pon- 
toon, when ready 
for sea, but after 
the storm in the 
bay they were 
never seen again, 
and the sailors, 
being foreign, are 
supposed to have 
thrown them 
through supersti- 

The Needle 
whilst raised and 
ready for encasing 
had the plates 
riveted in place 
round it, the 
inside was packed 
with elastic tim- 
ber cushions to 
preserve the stone when being rolled into 
the water, or in case of any deflection in the 
vessel's length, which might occur through 
the waves. The casing was made water-tight, 
and the greatest care had to be taken to have 
the column quite in the centre of the cylinder, 
where ii was fastened in position. 

For the purpose of getting it into the 
water, large wooden wheels, 16^ ft. in 
diameter, were put on either end, and planks 
were laid for it to roll down. From heavy 
lighters lying in the bay, wire ropes were 
taken and wrapped many times round the 
cylinder. Also from the land side ropes 


3y V-jC 


L'\ 1 ■_ 1 1 1 1 a 1 





RKt-AlRJNG THE HuLi: MAI>]-: liV THE KniJK. 


were secured to it, in case, when set in 
motion, it went off at too great a speed, and 
thus the ropes could check that lault, On 
August 28th, 1877, all was ready for the 
launch. Unfortunately, the morning com- 
menced with a thick fog, which only cleared 
away as the day wore on* 

A great crowd of people gathered to 
witness the interesting event. All being in 
readiness, the winches on board the lighters 
worked the ropes connected with the encased 
Needle, and it commenced to gradually move 
towards the water, 
but the movement 

was so slow that 
it could scarcely 
be detected. After 
some hours it 
had only made 
one complete turn 
on its wheels. It 
was then proved 
that the vessels 
from which the 
wire ropes were 
worked were not 
able to hold their 
ground against the 
strain, but were 
dragging their 
anchors. Two tugs 
which had been 
standing by in 
readiness to give 
help if required 
were called into 
service, and being 

connected with the cylinder towed it until she 
moved a little farther into the w r ater, but 
although the tugs steamed at full power they 
could not move the heavy weight at any 
great speed. The planking ended by an 
incline into the water, and divers had been 
previously employed in removing shoals from 
the intended course to prevent any mishap. 
When the cylinder was brought to the edge 
of the railway, so to call it, the idea was that 
it would roll down the incline and slip ofll 
easily into the water 


by dOOQle 

i.AUNc@n,gjnal from 




All the lirst day was employed in bringing 
it to the foot of the incline, and at night it 
was left in no greater depth of water than 
3ft, Next morning the tugs again were at 
work trying to move it into deep water, but 

the water to rush in and fill the cylinder. It 
took some days to repair the damage made 
by the rock, but after that was done it was 
successfully floated and towed round to the 
harbour, where final arrangements were made 


I riwtn. 

after making one full revolution it stuck, and 
although the tugs continued to tow all day 
it remained immovable. 

On the third day divers discovered that a 
hidden stone weighing half a ton had pierced 
the plates, Lind making a hole had allowed 

for the sea voyage. A cabin house and rail 
were fixed on top, two bilge keels 40ft, long 
were riveted one on either side, a mast and 
rudder placed, and twenty tons of iron ballast 
were put in her. It was manned by a crew 
of five Maltese and an English captain, 


TO Al 1 \ VMH'1 r. 


Original from 




The time occupied from beginning to encase 
it until the completion was about three and 
a half months. 

A suitable steamer of sufficient size and 
power was found in the ss. QIga*, belonging 
to Messrs, Wm. Johnson and Co,, of Liver- 
pool, The craft, which was named the 
C Impair a ) was now ready for sea. It was 
designed not to travel faster than five or 
six knots an hour, as greater speed might 
be disastrous. The Oiga, towing the Cka- 
patra y set sail 
from Alexandria 
on the 2 1 st Sep- 
tember, 1877, 

For the first 
twenty days all 
was prosperous 
and uneventful, 
but on the morn- 
ing of Sunday, 
the 14th Octo- 
ber, when in the 
Bay of Biscay, 
a squall arose, 
which towards 
noon developed 
into a gale. The 
Ckopaira^ how- 
ever, stood the 
gale well, not 
shipping enough 
water to do any 
serious harm 
until about six 
o'clock on the 
evening of the 
same day, when 
a big sea caught 
her, turning her 
completely on 
her beam ends 
and carrying 
away her mast. 

A desperate effort was made to right her, 
but without success ; a small boat was 
lowered, but to no purpose, and the captain 
of the O/ga at this point, seeing the danger 
all were in, thought it wisest to disconnect 
the two vessels, and so the cylinder was cut 
adrift, A little later, the wind having fallen, 
the Ckopatra signalled for assistance, and the 
crew of the Qlgftj pitying the distress of their 
fellow-sailors, volunteered to put off in a boat 
and go to their rescue. The captain, thinking 
it would be a fruitless effort, advised them 
against it, saying : " A boat could not live in 
such a sea/ 7 The second officer, who had 
all along taken a keen interest in the welfare 

Digitized by GOOglC 

Ft'ma a Photo, kindly tint bu C. 1L Mubev, 

of the Cleopatra^ replied : u We can't leave 
the poor fellows to drown ; and now T , lads, 
who will go with mc?" He found five fine 
able-bodied men, in the prime of life, were 
willing to share the risk, and a boat was 
launched and put off ; but before they could 
render any assistance a great wave washed 
them away, and they were thus drowned in 
endeavouring to save others. 

After a time a line was thrown from the 
Oiga over the Cleopatra^ and by means of 

it a boat was 
hauled from the 
one vessel to 
the other, and 
the- sailors on 
the Needle were 
saved. After 
spending some 
hours in search- 
ing for signs of 
the lost boat 
and the C&&- 
patra^ the cajj- 
tain of the O/ga 
set sail for Fal- 
mouth, with the 
sad news of the 
enforced aban- 
donment in the 
Bay and the 
supposed loss of 
the Needle and 

When the 
news was heard 
in England, Mr. 
Dixon was of 
opinion that the 
Needle would 
not sink when 
cast off, but 
would float, the 
on 1 y da n ger 
being that she might be destroyed on rocks. 
His surmising was correct in reference to 
it floating, for a telegram was received sixty 
days after the news of its loss saying that the 
ss, Fiizmaurice^ bound for Valencia from 
Middlesbrough, had found and captured it 
ninety miles north of Ferrol, and had towed 
it into Vigo in Spain, and it remained in 
that harbour about three months. 

Sir James Ashbury, M«I\, kindly offered 
the loan of his yacht, the Eothen^ to tow it 
home, but arrangements were finally made 
for the Anglta to do the work, and she 
arrived in England with the obelisk in tow 
on the 20th January, 1878, 



tlmi^Seulphtr of Sphinx** and Pvdettal 

Ivanka the Wolf-Slayer, 

By Mark Eastwood, 

HIi Prince threw the reins to 
his servant and sprang from 
the sledge, 

M Where is he ? " demanded 

The Muzhik in the door- 
way of the hut stood bowing to the ground. 
He did not presume to lift his eyes to the 
High Noble, but they had flashed up like 

come to see — the little one who slew th' 
wolf. At least," he added quickly, with a 
shrug, " so they say, but I do not believe it. 
Why, it is impossible ! A child — a mere 

The Muzhik had thrown out his hands. 
He could contain himself no longer. "The 
High Noble does not believe?" he cried, 
wildly- Then he rushed into the house to 


signal-fires at the words, Yet he affected not 
to understand. 

"Is it the old man, Ivan Ivanovitch, the 
High Noble would honour with his com- 
mands ? ?f he begah. " His servant is full 
of regret— — " 

'* Bother Ivan Ivanovitch ! " interrupted 
the Prince, . imjiatiently. "What do I want 
with your father? It is Ivanka, your son. I 

? -doste 

return in a moment brandishing in one hand 
a knife, and in the other holding aloft a 
shaggy hide, 

"The Noble Prince does not believe?" 
he repeated, and his eyes seemed to emit 
sparks. " Let him behold the proofs. 
Ivanka, my little one, slew the wolf, in very 
truth ! Alone alone he slew it ! 1 ' 

As though a flash cf electric fir*; had flown 




from the man's lips direct to the hearts of 
his listeners, the faces of both flamed up. 
The man in the sledge lifted his cap and 
crossed himself with fervent mutterings. He 
passed the cuff of his coat across his wet, 
shining eyes. 

The Prince took the knife in his hand. 
Such a thing it was ! You can buy the like 
for twenty copeks (about sixpence) at any 
Russian fair. One of the sort used by the 
Russian peasant to cut forage, having a 
crooked blade and horn handle. It was 
stained, both blade and hilt, with blood. 

" I have bought another for use," observed 
the peasant. 

" It is wonderful," murmured the Prince, 
as he turned the knife about in his hands. 

At this juncture a pair of excited black 
eyes, surmounted by a huge baranka, peered 
round the corner of the hut, and as quickly 

Presently the Prince looked up. " But 
the boy ! " he cried. " Let us see this wonder- 
ful child and hear the story from his own 

The peasant looked sharply round. 

" He was here even when the High Noble 
drew up. There is the hatchet and the wood 
he was chopping. Ivanka ! Ivanka ! He 
has hidden himself, the rascal." 

The Prince laughed. 

" Ivanka ! Ivanka ! " almost shrieked the 
peasant. " I will teach you to run and hide 
when the High Nobility come from far and 
near to see you ! By all the saints, if you 
do not instantly come forth from your hiding- 
hole and relate the whole occurrence to the 
Noble Prince, I will break every bone in 
your body ! " 

Then it was that a coat of sheep's skin 
that just cleared the ground emerged from 
behind the hut and moved slowly over the 
trodden snow to within a few paces of the 
Prince. You could only tell by the shining 
eyes and the tip of a small red nose that 
peeped between the high stand-up collar that 
inside of it was a small boy. 

Where he stood the blood-red sun bathed 
him in heroic glory. Yet, in spite of all, 
Ivanka the Wolf-Slayer had the mien of a 
fruit-stealing culprit before the Chinovnik. 
The Prince regarded him with mock 

" What is this I hear of you, Ivanka ? " he 
began. "They say that you have slain a 

Ivanka would have hung his head but that 
his collar prevented it. So he dropped 
his eyes in guilty silence. The peasant, 

Vol. «vi*.-10. 

Dlgi'.ized by V_iOOglC 

behind the Prince's back, rubbed his hands 
and chuckled. 

" Come here," commanded the Prince, his 
moustached lip twitching with a whimsical 

The coat moved to the Prince's feet. 
Then the small boy inside it felt himself 
caught up in strong arms and borne into the 

Now, though it was a ruddy winter sunset 
outside, in the hut it was quite gloomy. 
The window was very small. A dull yellow 
glow, like a big bull's-eye, came from the 
open door of the stove, and a glimmer like a 
glow-worm from the tiny lamp that burned 
before the Holy Image. The dim outline of 
a woman with a child in her arms could be 
discerned by the stove. She came forward 
as the Prince entered, and bending low 
raised the hem of his fur mantle to her lips 
and silently returned to her seat. 

The Prince sat by the window, and Ivanka 
stood between his knees where he had been 
placed. He trembled inside his sheep's skin. 
Yet it was a gentle hand that lifted the 
baranka from his curly head and raised his 

" How old are you, Ivanka? " inquired the 

"Ten years, Noble Prince," faltered the 
boy. But his eyes meeting those of the 
Prince at that moment he ceased to 
tremble. And the longer he looked the 
more comfortable he felt. 

"And you have slain a wolf?" continued 
the Prince. 

"Yes, Noble Prince." 

"And what had the wolf done to you, 
Ivanka, that you should have taken his life ? " 

" He had seized our little Minka and 
would have eaten her up." Ivanka drew a 
sharp breath. 

" How terrible ! " exclaimed the Prince. 
" But you — midge ! How did you dare to 
tackle such a foe ? It is incredible ! Come, 
tell me all about it. Begin at the beginning, 

Ivanka gazed at the ground in silence. 
He twisted one leg round the other, cracked 
all his knuckles in succession, but the words 
would not come. 

" Speak, Ivanka, do," came a woman's 
coaxing voice from the gloom. "Tell his 
High Nobility how it happened." 

Another pause, and at length in a shy, 
hesitating voice, Ivanka began : — 

" Mother had gone to the town in the 
sledge, and father lay asleep on the top of 
the stove. It was afternoon. I was minding 
Original from 




Minka, and we played at having a shop with 
the bits of pot from the mug Minka broke. 
Then 1 remembered it was time to cut the 
fodder and feed the beasts, which I can do 
as well as father now, So I took the fodder 
knife and stole out I left die door open a 
bit — not enough to let the cold in on father, 
but enough to hear Minka if she cried. I 
had fed the cows in the byre and had got to 
the corner of the house coming back, when 
I heard Minka scream." 

As Ivanka uttered the last word his breath 
came fast. He tossed back fris locks with a 
sudden jerk of the head. Like a gladjator 
preparing for combat, he threw out his chest, 
setting his teeth, whilst his small, muscular 
fingers contracted, doubling in like the claws 
of a falcon. Forgotten was the princely 
presence with that piteous appeal smiting 
his ears, 

li I sprang forward," he continued, H and 

strength came to me, and with a yell I threw 
myself upon him + ! ' 

u You were not afraid ? " put in the Prince, 
who had never taken his eyes off the hoy 
since he began to speak, 

4 *I did not think of fear," replied Ivanka, 
V I thought of my poor little Minka, and oh, 
how fiercely I hated the monster. Hate kills 
fear," he added, reflectively. 

" And then ? ''inquired the Prince. 

" Oh, then he dropped Minka, and over 
and over we rolled in the snow, he snarling 
and worrying my sheep's skin. He would 
soon have made an end of me but for my 
sheep's skin." And the boy patted his breast 
and looked himself over complacently, 

"And after?" the Prince again recalled 

" After that he shook me until my bones 
rattled in my skin. Then I was under him 
and my mouth was full of his hair, and I was 


saw Minka. She was on the ground just 
outside the door. And over her hung a 
monster, grim and terrible. His wicked eyes 
gleamed red T and his cruel teeth were long 
and sharp- I saw them as he lifted his 
bristling lip to seize her in his jowl," 

A dry sob rose in Ivanka's throat and 
made him pause. He cough ed i t i m pa t i en 1 1 y 

"It seemed to me then — just for a 
moment of horror— as though my limbs were 
bound and I could not move, until the beast 
began to drag Minka away. At the sight 

by Google 

so spent that I would have let him finish me* 
But Minka cried, 'Ivanka! Ivanka! 7 and it 
seemed too hard to leave her. It was that 
moment I remembered that I still grasped 
the knife, 

" How I struggled round between his 
mighty paws until my arm was free to plunge 
the weapon in his throat I know not, but I 
felt the blood gush out over my face. And 
then — and then, Minka's voice went farther 
and farther away and I seemed to be falling 
as a star falls through the air." 

As Ivanka ceased speaking, a half-stifled 
Original from 




sob was heard from the interior of the room. 
The Prince had covered his eyes with his 
hand as though dazzled. Yet the sun had 
gone down and the place was more gloomy 
than ever. The peasant stepped forward out 
of the shadows and stood before the Prince 

the Prince still held him between his 
knees, Even when he rose to go, the 
High Noble detained the boy with a hand 
on his head. 

" Give him to me," he said to the peasant, 
" Let me take him with me when I go to 


in the dim light of the window. He took up 
the tale. 

" It way the screams of the little one that 
awoke me, your High Nobility, and I ran 
out Ah, never shall I forget the sight that 
met my eyes ! There lay my little son, 
dabbled in blood, and beside him the wolf 
on its back, kicking in death convulsions. 
When I picked up my Ivanka I thought him 
dead, and my heart would have broken had 
he not at once opened his eyes. 

" i Minka,' he whispered, * is she hurt ? ' 

" i My darling, no,' I answered. * She 
screams too lustily to be hurt. 1 

"'And the wolf?' He raised his head 
from my shoulder and looked wildly 

Ifl He is dead. You have slain him, my 
hero,' I assured him. 

** Then he shut his eyes with a great sigh, 

" 4 Let me sleep, father/ he murmured. 
* I am so tired/ " 

The peasant chuckled* " He was played 
out, my little wolf-slayer. The Noble Prince 
should have seen how he lay like a sack, 
and slept and slept 3 7t 

Meanwhile Ivanka had grown shy again 
and gazed wistfully towards the door, But 

Digitized by G* 

Petersburg. I will make a great man of him. 
He shall be a soldier and fight for the 

There was dead silence. The peasant's 
face had gone crimson. His eyes flew to his 
son and held him in jealous regard, 

" Will you go with me, Ivanka, you wolf 
slayer, to help keep the human wolves from 
invading the dominions of the Czar? You 
shall be taught with the sons of the highest 
in the land, and shall wear the uniform of an 
Imperial cadet." 

Ivanka raised solemn eyes to the face that 
was bent towards him. It was a noble face, 
handsome and benign, and imposing against 
the swelling sable of the high collar, 

" He is great and good and beautiful, like 
my patron saint, Ivan/ 3 he thought. Something 
stirred in the gloom of the hut and quickly 
Ivanka turned to where his mother sat with 
the sleeping Minka in her lap. His lip began 
to quiver. 

The peasant found his tongue, " Give 
him time, Noble Prince," he faltered, huskily, 
and he too looked towards the crouching 
figure by the stove. u It is a great thing the 
High Noble offers, but the boy is very 

Original from 




"Take your time," replied the Prince, was to him as though a bright noontide sun 

"In the spring 1 shall return. Then, since had suddenly dropped from the heavens, 

you are sensible people, he will be ready And there and then a feeling of longing after 

to go." greater things crept into his valiant little 

With these words the great man stooped heart, 

and kissed Ivanka, pressing a roll of notes " You shall decide for yourself, my son," 


into his hand. From the door Ivanka 
watched the Prince depart. He gazed after 
the fine sledge with its prancing horses as they 
sped, swift as the wind, towards the wonderful, 
mysterious city of the Great Czar. When 
it had disappeared and the merry jingle of 
the silver bells no longer reached his ear it 

said the peasant. And the mother hid her 
grief because she wished Ivanka to be a 
great man. 

Thus it was that when the spring came to 
stir the sap in the trees and release the ice- 
bound brooks, at the return of the Prince, 
Ivanka was ready to go. 

by Google 

Original from 

/;/ Nature's JVorkshop, 


By Grant Allen. 

UMAN life and especially 
human warfare are rich in 
deceptions > wiles, and strata- 
gems. We dig pitfalls for 
wild beasts, carefully concealed 
by grass and branches ; we 
take in the unsuspecting fish with artificial 
flies, or catch them with worms which con- 
ceal a hook treacherously barbed for their 
surer destruction. The savage paints his 
face and sticks feathers in his hair so that he 
may look more terrifying to his expected 
■enemy ; civilized men mask their batteries, 
and sometimes even paint muzzles of imagin- 
ary guns in the spaces between the gaping 
mouths of the real ones. Chemux de frm 
block the way to points liable to attack ; real 
troops lie in ambush and dart out unexpectedly 

occur among fairly well-known English plants 
and animals. And I shall begin with our 
familiar and unsavoury old friend, the Devil's 
Coach- horse. 

In order fully to understand his mode of 
procedure, however, I must first call your 
attention to another animal which really is 
what the Devil's Coach-horse mendaciously 
pretends to be : and that is the common 
scorpion. His mode of fighting is well 
known to most of us. In illustration No. i 
Mr. Enock has given us a delineation of 
a frantic death-struggle between such a 
scorpion and a large and powerful southern 
spider. The venomous creature with the 
stinging tail is on the left ; the spider is on 
the right, As far as mere size goes, the 
antagonists are fairly well matched; but the 


in the rear of the assailants, Trade in like 
manner is full of shams — a fact which I need 
hardly impress by means of special examples. 
But Nature we arc usually accustomed to 
consider as innocent and truthful. Alas, too 
trustfully : for Nature too is a gay deceiver- 
There is hardly a device invented by man 
which she has not anticipated : hardly a 
trick or ruse in his stock of wiles which she 
did not find out for herself long before he 
showed her. 

I propose in this paper to examine a few 
cases of such natural deceptions — not indeed 
the most striking or typical, but such as 

Digitized by G< 

scorpion is the best armed, both with offen- 
sive and defensive armour, His lobster-like 
or crab-like claws enable him to hold his 
enemy's limbs in his grip as in a vice ; 
then, at the critical moment, he bends 
over his tail, in the extremity of which 
his sting is situated, and plunks it with 
force through the comparatively slight skin 
of the spider's body or thorax, injecting 
at the same moment a pungent drop of his 
deadly poison. This characteristic action 
of the scorpion in curving its tail over its 
body and raising its sting in a menacing 
attitude is well known to birds and other 


r 5° 


enemies of the species : often the mere 
threat of a thrust is a sufficient deterrent : 
the dangerous beast just elevates its 
poisonous appendage or assumes an angryi 
mien, and the inquisitive intruder is 
frightened away im- 
mediately, It is the 
same with ourselves. 
The bare sight of 
that uplifted sting 
suffices to repel us. 
Even a child who 
saw a scorpion once 
arch its back and 
prepare to strike with 
its reversed tail 
would instinctively 
understand that there 
was danger ahead, 
and would withdraw 
its hand before the 
venomous creature 
had time to pounce 
upon it. 

Owing to these 
u nam iable perso n al 
traits of the scorpion 

race, it is not popular among other animals. 
But to be feared is to be respected ; and 
scorpions for the most part are left 
severely alone, under the stones where they 
love to lurk, by the various denizens of 
the districts they inhabit* Now, it is a fact 
in nature as in human life that to be success- 
ful is to have many imitators. Thus a number 
of harmless flies dress up like wasps in black 
and yellow bands, and so escape the too 
pressing attentions of insect-eating birds and 
other enemies. They have no stings, to be 
sure, but they look so like the wasps, and 
flaunt about so fearlessly in their borrowed 
uniform, that they are universally taken for 
the insects they mimic ; even the cautious 
entomologist himself stares at them twice 
and makes quite sure of his specimen before 
he ventures to lay 
hands on any such 
doubtful masque- 
rades I hope in a 
future article to 
give some further 
account {with illus- 
trations) of these 
facts of mimicry r as 
it is called : for the 
present we will 
stick close to our 
text, the Devil's 
Coach -horse. For 


this familiar English beetle is an imitator of 
the scorpion, and obtains immunity from the 
attack of enemies to a great extent by pre- 
tending to powers which are not his in reality. 
In No. 2 we have a portrait of the Coach- 
horse in his hours 
of ease, seen from 
above, engaged in 
doing nothing in par- 
ticular. He does not 
look like a flying 
insect, but he is. He 
has a long pair of 
wings tucked away in 
folds under his horny 
wing-cases, and he 
can use them with 
great effect, for he is 
one of our swiftest 
and strongest fliers — 
the long-distance ■ 
champion, I almost 
fancy, among the 
beetles of England, 
unless indeed the 
tiger-beetle be pitted 
against him. But 
when crawling on the ground, and attacked 
or menaced, he does not take to flight 
or show the white feather : being a pug- 
nacious and spirited little beast, he bridles 
up at once, and endeavours incontinently 
to terrify his assailant. . In No, 2 you 
see him from above when he is merely 
engaged in crawling along theground, looking 
as mild as milk, and as gentle as any sucking 
dove : you would hardly suppose he could 
show fight or raise his hand — I mean his 
antenna; to injure anyone. But in No. 3 
he is represented in his favourite act of 
attacking a caterpillar : for he is really a 
very voracious and courageous carnivore* 
In the autumn, when Devil's Coach-horses 
are usually most abundant, you can easily 
catch them by putting a piece of meat or a 

dead frog under an 
empty fl o wer - pot, 
and then tilting the 
edge up with a 
stone, so that the 
beetles can crawl 
in and get at the 
food thus tempt- 
ingly laid out for 

If you disturb 
the Coach - horse, 
however, while he 
is engaged in eating 


" nno | « Original from 




his quiet meal, or even when he is walk- 
ing at leisure along a country road, he 
puts himself at once into his ( * terrifying Jt 
imitates the scorpion. No, 4 
in this military character, 
his tail and pretending he 
is only his brag : he 
frighten you; But the 
exactly like that 1 of t-hfc scor- 
almost always produces an 

attitude, and 
exhibits him 
cocking up 
can sting —which 
just does it to 
attitude is so 
pion, that it 

you may 
there are 

immediate effect: hardly anybody likes to 
molest a I)evi)*s Coach-horse. If you put 
down your hand to touch him, and he rears 
in response, ten to one you will withdraw it 
in alarm at sight of him- In England these 
beetles often enough find their way into 
larders or cellars, seeking whom or what they 
may devour ; and when the servants light 
upon them, they 
almost invariably 
decline to touch 
them : there is a 
general opinion 
about that the ugly 
and threatening 
black beasts are un- 
canny and poison- 
ous, or else why 
should they turn up 
their tails at you in 
such an insulting 
fashion ? 
M But," 
object, " 

no scorpions in Eng- 
land : how* then can 
the Devil's Coach- 
horse bd benefited 
by imitating an 
animal which he has 

never seen, and of whose very existence he 
has not been able to read in pretty picture 
books ? " Your objection has some force — 
though not so much as you imagine. It is 
quite true that there are no scorpions 111 
England ; but then, there are Devil's Coach- 
horses in many other countries, and the habit 
of tail-cocking need not necessarily have been 
acquired in these islands of Britain- That is 
not all, however : it suffices the beetle if the 
tactics it adopts happen to frighten and repel 
its enemies, no matter why, Now, in the 
first place, many of our migratory birds go in 
winter to Southern Europe and Africa 
especially the insect-eaters, which can find 
no food in frozen weather. The hard-billed 
seed -eaters and fruit-eaters remain with us, 
but the soft-billed kinds retire to warmer 
climates, where food is plentiful. Of course, 

by Google 

however j it is just these in sect-eating birds 
that the Devil's Coach horse has most to fear 
from. The birds must be quite familiar with 
the habits and manners of scorpions in their 
southern homes : and they are not likely to 
inquire closely whether the dangerous beast 
they know on the Mediterranean has, or has 
not, been scheduled in Britain, We all of 
Us dislike and distrust any insect that 
resembles a bee or wasp, and that buzzes or 
hums in a hostile manner : we give all such 
creatures a wide berth, wherever found, on 
the bare off-chauce that they may turn out 
to be venomous — be hornets or so 
forth. Just in the same way, a bird, 
when it sees an unknow T n black beastie 
cock up its tail and assume a threatening 
attitude, is not likely to inquire too curiously 

whether or not it 
is really a scorpion : 
the bare suspicion 
of a sting is quite 
enough to warn it 
off from interfering 
with any doubtful 
customer, More- 
over, in the second 
place, even those 
birds or men who 
have never seen a 
scorpion at all are 
yet sure to be 
alarmed when an 
insect sticks up its 
forked 9 tail mena- 
cingly, and shows 
fight, instead of 
skulking or flying 
away* As a general 
rule, if any animal 
makes signs of resistance, we take it for 
granted he has adequate arms or weapons 
to resist with : and so this mere dumb-show 
of being a sort of scorpion proves quite 
sufficient to protect the Devil's Coach-horse 
from the majority of his enemies. 

I ought to add that while our beetle thus 
frightens larger enemies, he is actively and 
offensively objectionable to small ones. The 
main use of- his tail, indeed, is for folding 
away his wings, much as the earwig folds 
hers by aid of her pincers. But the Devil's 
Coach-horse makes it serve a double purpose. 
For He has a couple of yellow scent-glands in 
his Lail, which secrete an unpleasant and 
acrid aromatic substance, These scent- 
glands are protruded in No. 4 : you can just 
see them at the tip of the tail ; and if the 

annoyance to, which the beetle is subjected 



*$ 2 


seems to call for their intervention, a drop 
of the volatile body they distil is set free, 
and is at once discharged in the face of the 
enemy. Such a manoeuvre is in essence like 
that of the skunk : it is defence by means of 
a nasty odour, and it occurs not only in the 
Coach-horse's case, but also among a number 
of beetles and other insects. 

The odd little creatures known as Bom- 
bardier Beetles are still quainter in their 
habits : they carry the last-mentioned mode 
of defence to an even greater pitch of per- 
fection. For, like miniature artillery-men, 
they actually fire off a regular volley of 
explosive gas in the faces of their pursuers. 
The gas is secreted as a liquid ; but it is very 
volatile, and it vaporizes at once on contact 
with the air, so as to form a small, white 
cloud of pungent smoke, resembling in its 
effects nitric acid. Our native English 
species of Bombardier roams about in large 
flocks or regiments : and when one member 
of a clan is disturbed, all the other beetles 
of the company let off their artillery at once, 
so that the scattered volley has something 
the appearance of platoon firing. The 
chief enemy of the Bombardiers is a 
much larger and very handsome carnivorous 
beetle known ' as Calosoma. When this 
insect tiger hunts down a single Bombardier, 
and has almost caught him, the fugitive waits 
till his pursuer is quite close, and then salutes 
him with a discharge of fire-arms : the 
pungent gas gets into the Calosoma's eyes 
and mouth and distracts him for a moment ; 
and the Bombardier escapes in the midst of 
the confusion thus caused, under cover of 
the cloud he himself has exploded. That is 
the most highly evolved mode of defence of 
which I know among the British insects. 

There are few creatures, again, which one 
would so little suspect of any attempt to 
bully and bluff others as the soft-bodied 
caterpillars. They are as a rule so plump 
and squashy and defenceless : a mere peck 
from a bird's beak is enough to kill them, for 
when once their tight, thin skin is broken, 
were it but with a pin-prick, all the flabby 
contents burst out at once in the messiest 
fashion. Yet even caterpillars, strange to say, 
have their tricks of terrifying. They pre- 
tend to be dangerous characters. I will set 
out with some of the simplest and least 
developed cases, and then pass on to a more 
complex and wily class of deceivers. 

To begin with, I must premise that two 
sets of caterpillars have two different ways of 
evading the unpleasant notice of birds and 
other insect-eaters. One way is that adopted 

by the common " woolly-bear," a great hairy 
caterpillar, frequent in gardens, and covered 
from head to tail with long needles or bristles. 
These prickly points make the creature into 
a sort of insect hedgehog; birds refuse to 
touch him, because the serried spikes, which 
to us are mere hairs, seem to them perfect 
spines or thorns, sticking into their tongues 
and throats, or clogging their gizzards. 
Protected caterpillars like the woolly-bears 
live quite openly, exposed on the leaves and 
branches of their food-plant ; they are not 
afraid of being seen : nay, they rather court 
observation than shun it, because they know 
nobody w r ill attack them. The porcupine 
has no need to run away like the rabbit. 
Similar tactics are also adopted by many 
nasty-tasting caterpillars, in whose bodies 
natural selection has developed bitter or 
unpleasant juices. These caterpillars are 
rejected by birds and lizards — the great 
enemies of the race — and therefore they find 
it worth while to clothe themselves in gaudy 
and conspicuous red or yellow bands, so as to 
advertise all comer* of their inedible qualities. 
Whenever you see such brilliantly-attired 
grubs (like those of the Magpie Moth, so 
common on gooseberry-bushes — a striking 
creature tricked out in belts of black and 
orange), you may be sure of two things: 
first, they live openly and undisguisedly on 
the leaves of their food-plant, without any 
attempt at mean concealment; and second, 
they are nasty to the taste, and therefore 
rejected as food by insect-eating animals. 
Now and then a young and inexperienced 
bird may eat one, to be sure ; but it never 
tries twice, and the solitary martyr is sacri- 
ficed for the good of the race. Their bright 
colours and gaudy bands are just advertise- 
ments, as it were, of their inedible qualities. 
For, of course, nasty taste would do a cater- 
pillar no good if the bird had always to 
sample it before rejecting it ; the broken skin 
alone would be enough to kill it. Hence 
almost all uneatable caterpillars have acquired 
bright colours by natural selection — that is 
to say, by the less bright being continuously 
devoured or killed ; and birds on their side 
have learned to know (after one trial, or, 
perhaps, even before it by inherited instinct) 
that red or yellow bands and belts in cater- 
pillars are the outward and visible sign of 

The second group or set of caterpillars is 
edible and tasty : it, therefore, governs itself 
accordingly, and has recourse to the exactly 
opposite ' tatics. Caterpillars of this class 
are smooth and naked : they never have the 

by K: 



L\ 1 1 I U I I I '_' 




brilliant " warning colours w of the nasty- 
tasted kinds : and they show a marked 
absence of the beautiful metallic sheen, the 
strange melting iridescent hues and spots 
which add beauty to the charms of so many 
among the uneatable species. Such fat and 
smooth-skinned edible catcrpi liars are, of 
course, very tempting juicy morsels to birds 
and other insect-eating animals. Their 
motions, like those of all grubs, are slow : 
and if they lived exposed on their food- 
plants, after the fashion of the protected 
hairy and bitter kinds, they would all be 
eaten up before they had time to turn into 
moths or butterflies. Here, therefore, 
natural selection has produced the contrary 
result from that which it produces 
among protected kinds. Caterpillars of this 
edible type which showed themselves too 
openly and imprudently have got picked off 
by birds, like sentries and pickets who make 
themselves too conspicuous to the enemy's 
sharpshooters. Only the 
most prudent, modest, 
and retiring grubs have 
survived to become moths 
or butterflies^ and so be 
the parents of future 
generations, to whom 
they hand on their own ' 
peculiarities. In this way 
the edible caterpillars 
have acquired at last a 
fixed hereditary instinct 
of lurking under leaves, 
or in dark spots, and 
never showing themselves 
oj>enly. The larva* of 
the butterfly group as a 
whole thus fall into two 
great classes (as far as 
regards habits alone, I 
mean) : the protected^ 
which are either hairy or 
nasty, and which flaunt 
themselves openly ; and 
the unprotected) which 
lurk and skulk, endeavour- 
ing to escape noticv as 
sedulously as their rivals 
the protected endeavour 
to attract it. 

Nor is that all. It 
would clearly be useless 
for a bright red or yellow caterpillar to hide 
under a green leaf, and then suppose by that 
simple device he was going to escape obser- 
vation* Birds are always looking out for 
insects under leaves. The consequence is 

Vol xviL--20. 


that skulking or lurking caterpillars are soon 
found out by sharp-eyed and hungry enemies, 
unless they closely resemble the foliage or 
stems upon which they lie. From generation 
to generation, accordingly, the less imitative 
insects get eaten> and the more imitative 
spared : so that nowadays, most unarmed 
caterpillars are green like the leaves or grey 
like the stems, and are even provided with 
markings of light and shade upon their skins 
which mimic the distribution of light and shade 
among the rihs and veins of the surrounding 
foliage. Such deceptive leaf-like caterpillars 
are always very difficult to find : so that care- 
less observers as a rule know only those of 
the Other type, the great hairy " woolly-bears " 
and the brilliant red and yellow-banded bitter 
kinds ; they never observe the unobtrusive 
green and brown sorts, which harmonize so 
admirably with their native tree in colour 
and markings. 

Many greenish caterpillars, however, when 
discovered and disturbed, 
fall back on their second 
line of defence : they 
endeavour to frighten 
their enemies by devices 
closely similar to those 
of the Devil's Coach- 
horse, The caterpillar of 
the Broad-bordered Bee- 
hawk, for example, forms 
a good instance of a very 
simple stage in the 
development of such 
brazen-faced t£ terrifying " 
tactics. This warlike grub 
is shown in No. 5, trying 
on its simple little attempt 
to make itself alarming. 
Though by no means an 
uncanny - looking or ap- 
palling insect, it will rear 
itself up on its haunches 
{so to speak) when 
attacked, raising the fore 
part of its body erect 
with a sudden jerk, and 
holding its head high, as 
if it meant to bite or 
sting, so as to give itself 
as formidable an aspect 
as possible. The mild 
ruse succeeds, too ; for 
birds will eye the harmless creature askance 
when it attempts this evolution, putting their 
heads on one side, and ruffling their crests in 
evident terror. The attitude is all a simple 
piece of blUffjttirfcM fo&*7ibut it pays ; indeed, 





Muffin warfare is often more than half the 
battle. If you put on a bold face in a row, 
and seem able to take care of yourself, 
people are apt to think you have a knife up 
your sleeve, and therefore to refrain from 
unnecessarily annoying you. 

The cunning caterpillar which finally 
develops into the Privet Hawk-moth has a 
slightly more evolved mode of purely thea- 
trical frightening. You see him in No, 6, a 
full-fed specimen, just ready to turn at once 
into a chrysalis. This grub feeds usually on 
the vivid leaves of the 
privet ; he is therefore 
protectively coloured a 
bright green, like that 
of the foliage about him. 
"But why those great 
purple stripes on his 
sides ? n you will ask. 
"Surely they must make 
him an easy mark for 
birds ? " Not at all : 
please notice that they 
run obliquely. There 
is method in that ob- 
liquity. When the cater- 
pillar is smaller, he iurks 
unseen on the under- 
side of the leaves, and 
this pattern of oblique 
purplish lines exactly 
imitates the general 
effect of the shadows 
cast by the ribs so 
much so, that if you 
look for him on a 
privet-tree in spring, I 
doubt whether you will 
find him till 1 point 
him out to you- Even 
when he waxes fat and 
full fedj the purple 
stripes stilt aid him more 
or less by breaking up 
the large green surface 
into smaller areas, as Professor Poulton has 
well noticed. He harmonizes better so with 
the broken masses of the leaves about him. 
Then again, when the time arrives for him to 
turn into a chrysalis, he descends to the 
ground, which, under a thickly-leaved p rive I 
hush, is most often brown. So, just as he is 
coming of age and reaching the proper 
moment for migration, his back all at once 
begins to turn brown, in order that he may 
he less observed as he walks about on the 
stem ; while by the time he is quite ready to 
take to the earth he has grown brown all 

torts by showing 


over, thus matching the soil in which he has 
next to bury himself. You could hardly have 
a better example of the sort of colour-change 
which often accompanies altered habits of 

In the illustration, however, you see this 
really harmless and undefended grub in the 
act of trying to pretend he is poisonous. He 
is now mature, and the stripes on his sides 
stand out conspicuously as he walks on the 
stem. A sparrow threatens him. He re^ 
fight — fallaciously and 
deceptively, for he has 
nothing to fight with* 
He lifts his head with 
an aggressive air, and 
throws himself about 
from side to side, as if 
he knew he could bite, 
and meant to do it. He 
also lashes his tail in 
pretended anger - M I 
would have you to 
know, Sir Bird, 1 am 
not to be trifled with ! " 
The empty demonstra- 
tion usually succeeds : 
the sparrow gits alarmed 
and believes he means 
it. This policy is, in 
essence, that commonly 
known as " spirited " : it 
consists in trying to 
frighten your enemy in- 
stead of fighting him. 

The oddly -marked 
caterpillar of the Puss 
Moth carries the same 
plan of campaign to a 
much more artistic pitch, 
This very quaint insect 
is common on willows 
and poplars in England, 
and is on the whole pro- 
tectively coloured. Black 
at first, it looks like a 
mere speck or spot on the leaf ; as it grows, it 
becomes gradually greener, relieved with broad 
purple patches on the back, which produce the 
effect of lines and shadows. When quite full- 
grown, as seen in No, 7, the adult caterpillar 
generally rests at ease on the twigs of the 
willow-tree. Our illustration shows it in this 
final stage of its larval life, just taking alarm 
and humping its back at the approach of 
some bird or other enemy. If the alarm 
continues, it goes through a most curious 
series of evolutions, admirably shown by 
Mr. Enodt : WWjr<8im Here, the little 







beast is altogether on the defensive : it 
withdraws its head into the first ring 
of the body, and inflates the margin, 
which is bright red in colour, Two black 
spots, which are not really eyes, but which 
look absurdly eye - like, now give it a 
grotesque and terrifying appearance. In 
fact, the inflated ring resembles a hideous 
grinning mask, and gives the impression of a 
face with eyes, nose, 
and mouth, like that of 
some uncanny creep- 
ing creature. But the 
apparent face is not a 
face at all : it is art- 
fully made up of lines 
and spots on the skin 
of the body. At the 
same time that the 
caterpillar thus assumes 
its mask, it stands on 
its eight hind legs as 
erect as it can, and 
whips out two pink 
bristles or tentacles 
from the forked prongs 
at the end of its tail 
you can see them in 
the picture. It then bends forward the tail, 
and brandishes or waves about these pink 
bristles over its false 1 ead, so as to present 
altogether a most gruesome aspect, hid, , ,|, 
even Mr, Knock's vigorous sketch | of the 

Diqitized by \j 

little brute in its tragic moments does 
not quite convey the full effect of its 
acting in the absence of colour: for the 
bright red margin and the swishing pink 
switches add not a little to the telling smirk 
and black goggle-eyes of the mask-like face 
thus produced in terrorem, 

That is not all, either. The Puss Moth 
caterpillar has a rapid trick of facing about 
abruptly in the direction of the enemy as if 
it meant to bite : and this trick is always 
most disconcerting. If ever so lightly 
touched, it instantly assumes the terrifying 
attitude j and presents its pretended face to 
the astonished aggressor. From a harmless 
caterpillar it becomes all at once a raging 
bulldog. Touch it on the other side> 
and it faces round like lightning in 
the opposite direction. Professor Poulton 
tried the effect of its grimace on a 
marmoset, and found the marmoset was 
afraid to touch the mysterious creature. We 
are not marmosets, but I notice that most 
human beings recoil instinctively from a Puss 
Moth caterpillar when it assumes its mask. 
Even if you knmv it is harmless, there is 
something very alarming in its rapid twists 
and turns, and in the persistent way in which 
it grins and spits at you. 

Really spits, too; for the insect has a gland 
in its head Which ejects, at need, an irritating 
fluid. If this fluid gets into your eyes, they 
smart most unpleasantly. It contains formic 
acid, and is strong enough to be exceedingly 
stinging and painful, The discharge repels 



lizards, and probably also birds, who are 
among the chief enemies of this as of other 

The deadliest foe of the Puss Moth larva, 
however, ©rj ijjhsa |i$hl*{£ftimon-fly, a parasitic 




creature, which lays its' eggs in living cater- 
pillars* and lets its grubs hatch out inside 
them* so as to devour the host from within 
in the most ruthless fashion. There are 
many kinds of ichneumon-fly, some of them 
very minute : the one which attacks the 
Puss Moth in its larval stage is a compara- 
tively big one. The fly lays its eggs behind 
the caterpillar's head* where the victim is 
powerless to dislodge them. In all proba- 
bility the defensive attitude and the shower 
of formic acid are chiefly of use against 
these parasitic foes : for when an ichneumon- 
fly appears, the caterpillar assumes his 
" terrifying " attitude the moment it touches 
him, and faces full 
round to the foe 
with his false mask 
inflated. A very 
small quantity of 
the formie add 
Professor Poultoti 
found sufficient to 
kill an ichneumon : 
and there can be 
little doubt that 
this is its main 

The last of these 
" bluffing n cater- 
pillars with which I 
shall deal here is 
that of the lobster 
Moth, In No. 9 
you see a couple 
of these quaint and 
unwieldy creatures 
before an enemy, 
as if he w T ere the 
Sultan. The Lobster 
Moth in its larval 
stage frequents 
beech - trees, and 

you will see in the illustration that the two 
represented are on a twig of beech. When 
at rest* the caterpillar resembles a curled and 
withered beech-leaf, and by this unconscious 
mimicry esc:a[>es detection. But when dis- 
covered and roused to battle, oh, then he 
imitates the action of the spider, He holds 
up his short front legs in a menacing altitude, 
so as to suggest a pair of frightful gaping 
jaws : the four long legs behind these he 
keeps wide apart and makes them quiver 
with rage in the most alarming pantomimic 
indignation. His tail he turns topsy- 
turvy over Iiis head like a scorpion ; while 
the forked appendages at its end seem 




like frightful stings, with which he is just 
about to inflict condign punishment on who- 
ever has dared to disturb his quieL But it is 
all mere brag, though the whole effect is 
extremely terrifying- The performance does 
not, indeed, mimic any particular venomous 
beast, but it suggests most appalling and 
paralysing possibilities. Many of these queer 
attitudes, indeed, owe their impressiveness 
just to their grotesque simulation of one 
knows not quite what : they are not definite 
and special, they are worse than that ; they 
appeal to the imagination. And if only you 
reflect how afraid we often feel of the 
most harmless insects, merely because they 

hok frightful, you 
will readily under- 
stand that such 
vague appeals to 
the imagination 
may be far more 
effectual than any 
real sting could 
ever be. We dread 
the unknown even 
more than the 

The funniest of 
all these false 
pretences, however, 
is one which Her- 
mann M tiller, I 
believe, was the first 
to point out in this 
same Lobster Moth 
caterpillar* When 
very much bothered 
by ichneumon-flies 
(to whose attacks 
it is particularly 
ex posed) j this brist- 
ling beast displays, 
for the first time, 
two black patches 
on its side, till then concealed by a triangu- 
lar flap, Now, these patches closely re- 
semble the sore of wound made by the 
ichneumon when it deposits its eggs, so 
it is probable that they serve to take 
in the assailant, who is thus led to think 
that another fly of her own kind has been 
before her, and, therefore, that it is no 
use laying her eggs where a previous parasite 
is already in possession. There would not 
be enough Lobster Moth to feed two hungry 
ichneumon families. In fact, the caterpillar 
first begins by bluffing, and says, " If you 
touch me, Ijbite.!" then, finding the bluff 
unsuccessful, :t further pretends to throw up 




the sponge, and cries out with a bounce: 
11 Oh, if egg-laying is your game, thafs no 
good : Tm already occupied ! " For a com- 
bination of wiles, thus crafty double game 
probably " licks creation." 

If the defenders are so cunning, however, 
the attackers can sometimes turn the tables 
upon them* Animals that hunt often dis- 
guise themselves, in order to avoid the 
notice of the prey, and so steal unobserved 
upon their victims. Such tactics arc like 
those of the Kaffirs, who cut bits of bush, and 
then creep up slowly, slowly behind them, 
under cover of the branches, upon the gnus 
or antelopes which they wish to slaughter, In 
No, to w*e have one example of this method 
of hunting or stalking, as pursued by the 
intelligent English grass-spider. Afl spiders, 
of course, have eight legs, four on each side ; 
but in most of the class, the various pairs of 
legs are evenly distributed, so as to lie about 
the body in a rough circle or something like 
it. The grass-spider, however, has his own 
views on this important matter. His form 
and attitude are quite peculiar. He lies 
in wait for his prey on the open, crouched 
against a stem of grass, with his two front 
pairs of legs extended 
before him, and . his 
hack pair behind, in 
an arrangement which 
is rather linear than 
circular. This position 
makes him almost in- 
visible — much more 
invisible in real life, 
indeed, than you see 
him in the drawing ; 
for if he were repre- 
sented as inconspicuous 
as he looks you would 
say there was no spider 
there at all, only a 
naked grass-stem, The 
delusion is heightened 
by his lines and colours : 
he is mostly green or 
greenish, with narrow 
black or brown stripes 
which run more or less 
up and down his body, 
instead of cross- wise as 
usual, so that they har- 
monise beautifully with 
the up-and-down lines 
of the blades and stem 
in the tuft which he 
inhabits. When he is 
pressed close against a 

CIO fiK, 

bent of grass, on the look-out for flies, it is 
almost impossible for the quickest eye to dis- 
tinguish him. Mies come near, never suspect- 
ing the presence of their hereditary foe ; as 
soon as the/ are close to him, the grass- 
spider rushes out with a dash and secures 
them. His jaws are among the most 
terrible in all his terrible race : they are 
large and wide-spreading, with two rows of 
teeth on either side, and a pair of long fangs 
of truly formidable proportions. 

In other ways, also, this particular spider 
is a clever fellow, for he lives near water ; 
hut when the rains are heavy and there is 
likely to be a flood, he shifts his quarters 
higher up the ground, and so escapes im- 
pending inundation. 

Deceptions and false pretences of this sort 
are somewhat less common among plants 
than among animals ; but still, they occur, 
and that not infrequently. "What? Plants 
deceive ? n you cry, " The innocent little 
flowers ? How can they do it ? Surely that 
is impossible!" By no means, I have 
watched plant life pretty closely for a good 
many years now, and every year the con- 
viction is forced upon me more and 
more profoundly that 
whatever animals do, 
plants do almost 
equally. There is no 
vile triek or ruse or 
stratagem that they can- 
not imitate : no base 
deception that they will 
not practise. They lie 
and steal with the worst ; 
they hold out false baits 
for deluded insects, and 
hide real fly-traps with 
honeyed words and 
sweet secretions. 

As a good illustra- 
tion among English 
plants, look at the Grass 
of Parnassus, that 
beautiful, dishonest 
bog herb, with glossy- 
green leaves and pure 
white blossoms, which 
is considered the 
especial guerdon of 
poets. I found a whole 
nest of it once in a 
swamp near Cromer, 
and carried off a bunch 
of the lovely flowers as 
an appropriate offering 
* *y BU «Q r jgj r rqjffl Mr . Swmburm- who 


for j ■ . 



was stopping 
at Sidestrand. 
Yet this poet's 
flower, dainty 
and delicate as 
it is — you see 
in No, ii its 
counterfeit pre- 
sentment— Is 
not ashamed 
to deceive the 
poor bees and 
flies in a way 
which the 
Heathen Chi- 
nee would have 
considered un- 
It is a sham, a 
sham of the 
worst type. It 
lives for the 
most part on 
wet moors 
among moun- 
tain s> or else in 
the boggy hol- 
lows between 
blown sand- 
hills by the sea: 
and when its 
flowers star the 
ground in such 
spots* it forms 

one of the loveliest ornaments of our 
English flora. But trust it not, oh butter- 

From a distance, 

full of honey ; it 

close quarters 'tis 

turns out to be 


fly : it is fooling thee 

it looks as if it were 

advertises well : but at 

a wooden nutmeg ; it 

nothing better than an arrant humbug 

The deception is man- 
aged in this disgraceful 
fashion. Inside each petal 
lies a curious ten or twelve- 
fingered organ, which is in 
reality an abortive stamen. 
No. 1 2 shows you one such 
petal removed, with the 
false honey - glands drawn 
on a larger scale than in 
the other illustration. The 
ten -fingered stamen bears 
at its tip a number of 
translucent yellow drops, 
which look like pure nectar, 
But i hey are nothing of 



13. — A S1NC1.E E^TAI., TO SIN'W 1 1 1 V- 


the kind ; I 
regret to say, 
they are solid 
— sol id — a 
com mercial 
They glisten 
like drops : but 
they are mere 
glassy imita- 
tions; and they 
are put there 
with intent to 
deceive, in 
order to attract 
flies and other 
insects, which 
come to quaff 
the supposed 
nectar, and so 
unwittingly fer- 
tilize the .seeds, 
while they are 
about per- 
plexed among 
the pretended 
honey - glands, 
without getting 
paid one sip for 
their toil and 
trouble. This 
is, of course, a 
flagrant case of 
obtaining ser- 
vices under 
false pretences ; it deserves fourteen days' 
without the option of a fine. As a rule, 
in similar cases, the flies are rewarded 
for their kind offices as carriers by the 
merited wage of a drop of honey. But the 
Grass of Parnassus, mendacious herb, pre- 
tends to be purveying a specially fine quantity 
and quality of nectar, while 
in reality it offers only a 
hard, glassy knob with 
nothing in it. This pays 
the plant j of course, because 
the blossoms do not have 
to go on producing honey 
fresh and fresh ; a mere 
inexpensive show does just 
as well as the real article : 
" Our customers like it ! ?T 
but the language of the 
flies when they discover 
the fraud is something just 
n^ifdsnhis by any means 




a solitary example of plant depravity. The 
whole group of pitcher-plants, for instance, 
cruelly manure themselves by means of 
living insects in the most treacherous fashion. 
These lovely and wicked plants live, without 
exception, in wet and boggy soil, where they 
cannot get enough animal matter for manure 
in the ordinary way by the roots : so they 
lay themselves out instead to capture and 
absorb the tissues of insects. For this 
horrid purpose, they twist their leaves into 
deep pitchers which catch and hold the rain 
water, and so form reservoirs to drown their 
prey. Then they entice insects by bright 
colours to their traps, and allure them to 
enter by secreting honey at the top of the 
pitcher. Hairs point downward inside ; these 
allow the flies to walk pn to their fate, 
bribed as they go by lines of nectar : but if 
they try to return, ah, then they find their 
mistake : the hairs prevent them, after the 
fashion of a lobster-pot. Thus they walk on 
and on till they reach the water, when they 
are swamped and clotted in a decaying mass, 
from which the treacherous plant draws 
manure at last for its own purposes. The 
pitchers are thus at once traps to catch 
animals, and stomachs to digest them. 

Another and still odder case of deceptive- 
ness in plants is shown by a curious 
group of South African flowers, the 
Hydnoras and Stapelias. These queer 
and malodorous herbs have very large and 
rather handsome but fleshy blossoms, an 
inch or two across, dappled and spotted 
just like decaying meat. They live in the 
dry and almost desert region, where carrion- 
flies abound. Such flies lay their eggs and 
hatch out their grubs for the most part in 
half-eaten carcasses of antelopes or smaller 
animals killed and in part devoured by lions 
and other beasts of prey. So the flowers 
have taken to imitating dead meat. They 
are a lurid red in colour, with livid livery 
patches, and they have a strong and un- 
pleasant smell of decaying animal matter. 
The flies, deceived by the scent, flock to 
them to lay their eggs, and in so doing carry 
out the real object of the plant by fertilizing 
the blossoms. But, of course, the whole 
thing is a vile sham ; for when the mag- 
gots hatch out, the flower has died, and 
there is no food for them, so they perish 

of starvation. Dr. Blackmore, of Salisbury, 
once gave me some of these curious plants 
and flowers : I noticed that in the sunlight, 
where they smelt just like decomposing meat, 
they attracted dozens of bluebottle flies and 
other carrion insects. 

Protective resemblance also occurs among 
plants : for in the same dry South African 
region, where every green thing gets nibbled 
down in the rainless season, certain ice- 
plants and milk-weeds have acquired the 
trick of forming tubers or stems exactly like 
the pebbles amonjj which they grow : so that 
when the leaves die down in the dry 
weather, the tuber is not distinguishable 
from the stones all round it. Such 
tubers are really reservoirs of living 
material destined to carry the life of the 
plant over the dead season : as soon as 
rain comes again, they put forth fresh green 
leaves at once, and grow on after their sleep 
as if nothing had happened. Even terrify- 
ing attitudes are not unknown in the 
vegetable world : for one of the uses of the 
movements in the Sensitive Plant is almost 
certainly to frighten animals. Browsing 
creatures that come near the bushes in their 
native woods see the leaves shrink back and 
curl up when touched, and are afraid to eat 
a tree that has so evidently a spirit in it. 
The Squirting Cucumber of the Mediter- 
ranean, again, alarms goats and cattle by 
discharging its ripe fruits explosively in their 
faces the moment the stem is touched. In 
this case the primary object is no doubt the 
dispersal of the seeds, which squirt out 
elastically as the fruit jumps off; but to 
frighten browsing enemies is a secondary 
advantage. There can be no question as to 
the reality of the plant's hostile intention, 
because the fruits also contain a pungent 
juice, which discharges itself at the same 
instant into the eyes of the assailant. As I 
have received a volley of this irritating liquid 
more than once in my own face (in the 
pursuit of science) I can testify personally on 
the best of evidence that it is distinctly 
painful. The tactics of the Squirting 
Cucumber in first frightening you, and 
then injecting acrid juice into your eyes, 
are thus exactly similar to the plan of 
action pursued by the angry larva of the 
Puss Moth. 

by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 



A liKEK-KATfcfc TEMl% lll-\KV Vi!] + 


H E proceedings 
at the opening of 
the forthcoming 
Session, the fifth 
in the fourteenth 
Parliament of 
Queen Victoria, 
will he fully re- 
ported in the 
morning papers. 
There is a pro- 
ceeding prelimi- 
nary to the 
Sjveaker's taking 
the Chair which, 
from its history 
and character, is 
of necessity con- 
ducted in secret. It is the search through 
the underground chambers and passages of 
the House with design to frustrate any 
schemes in the direction of a dissolution 
of Parliament that descendants or disciples 
of Guy Fawkes may have in hand. The 
present generation has seen, more especially 
when a Conservative Government have been 
in power, some revolutionary changes in 
Pa r 1 i a m en tary proced u r e . T h e s o 1 em n s ear ch 
underneath the Houses of Parliament, pre- 
ceding the opening of the revolving Sessions 
ever since Gunpowder Plot, is still observed 
with all the pomp and circumstance attached 
to it three hundred years ago. 

The investigation is conducted under the 
personal direction of the Lord Great 
Chamberlain, who is answerable with his 
head for any miscarriage. When a peer 
comes newly to the office he makes a point 
of personally accompanying the expedition. 
But, though picturesque, and essential to the 
working of the British Constitution, it palls in 

time, and the Lord Great Chamberlain, 
relying upon the discretion, presence of 
mind, and resource of his Secretary, 
usually leaves it to him. Oddly enough, 
the House of Commons is not officially 
represented at the performance, the avowed 
object of which is not, primarily, to secure 
the safety of the Lords and Commons, 
but to avert the conclusion aimed at by Guy 
Fawkes — namely, to blow up the Sovereign. 
It is as the personal representative of the 
Queen that the Lord Great Chamberlain 
takes the business in hand. 

To this day the result of the inquiry is 
directly communicated to Her Majesty. Up 
to a period dating back less than fifty years, 
as soon as the search was over, the Lord Great 
Chamberlain dispatched a messenger on 
horseback to the Sovereign, informing him 
(or her) that all was well, and that Majesty 
might safely repair to Westminster to open 
the new Session. To-day the telegraph 
wires carry the assurance to the Queen 
wherever she may chance to be in resi- 
dence on the day before the opening of 

Whilst the Commons take no 
official part in the performance, 
the peers are represented either 
by Black Rod or by his deputy, 
the Yeoman Usher, who is accompanied by 
half-a-dozen stalwart doorkeepers and mes- 
sengers, handy in case of a fray. The Board 
of Works are represented by the Chief Sur- 
veyor of the London District, accompanied 
by the Clerk of Works to the Houses of 
Parliament The Chief Engineer of the 
House of Commons, who is responsible for 
all the underground workings of the building, 
leads the party, the Chief Inspector of Police 
boldly marching on his left hand. 

These are details prosaic enough. The 
nineteenth g^ntury has engrafted them on 
the sixteenth? r| 91 1 n§ l J59t!5 l resqueness of the 





scene comes in with the appearance of the 

armed contingent. This is made up of some 

fourteen or sixteen of the 

Yeomen of the Guard, 

who arrive at the place of 

rendezvous armed with 

halberds and swords. The 

halberds look well, but 

this search is, above all, a 

business undertaking. It 

is recognised that for close 

combat in the vaults and 

narrow passages of the 

building halberds would be 

a little unwieldy. They 

are accordingly stacked in 

the Prince's Chamber, the 

Yeomen fearlessly marching 

on armed with nothing but 

their swords. Clad in their 

fifteenth century costume, 

they are commanded by 

an officer who wears a 

scarlet wallow-tailed coat, 

cocked hat, and feathers, 

gilt spurs shining at his martial heel. The 

spurs are not likely to be needed* But the 

British officer knows how to prepare for any 


Following the Yeomen of the Guard stride 
half-a-dozen martial men in costumes dating 
from the early part of the present century. 
They wear swallow-tail coats, truncated cone 
caps, with the base of the cone uppermost* 
They are armed with 
short* serviceable 
cutlasses and batons, 
such as undertakers' 
men carry, suggest- 
ing that they have 
come to bury Guy 
Fawkes, not to catch 

Most of the under- 
ground chambers 
and passages of the 
Houses of Parlia- 
ment are lit by elec- 
tricity, Failing that, 
they are flooded with 
gas. When search 
for Guy Fawkes was 
first ordered, the 
uses of gas had not 
been discovered, 
much less the possi- 
bilities of electricity. Lanterns were the 
only thing, so lanterns are still used As the 
dauntless company of men-at-arms tramp 

V«l. xvii*— 21* 




along the subterranean passages, it Is pretty to 

see the tallow dips in the swinging lanterns 

shamed by the wanton light 

that beats from the electric 


Her Majesty's 
Ministers meet- 
ing Parliament 
at the opening 
of their fifth Session remain 
happy in the reflection that 
their position is not endan- 
gered by any mines dug 
within the limits of their 
own escarpment. It is 
different in the opposite 
camp. The first thing good 
Liberals do as soon as 
their own party conies into 
power is to commence a 
series of manoeuvres de- 
signed to thrust it forth* 
Sometimes they are called 
"caves," occasionally "tea- 
room cabals.'' But, as Mr. 
Gladstone learned in the 1868-74 Parlia- 
ment, in that of 1880-85, an d, w ' tu tragic 
force, in the Parliament which made an end 
of what Mr, Chamberlain called "The Stop- 
Gap Government," they all mean the same 
thing. Ix>rd Rosebery when he came to 
the Premiership found the habit was not 

The condition of men and things in the 
House of Commons 
when Parliament 
met after the General 
Election in July t 
1895, was rarely 
favourable to the for- 
mation of u caves " 
the Ministerial 


side. To begin 
with, the Govern- 
ment had such an 
o v e r w h e 1 m i n g 
majority that the 
game of playing at 
being independent 
was so safe that its 
enjoyment was not 
forbidden to the 
most loyal Unionist. 
Given that con- 
dition, there w T ere 
existent persona! 
circumstances that supplied abundant mate- 
rial for cave - making. The necessity 
imposed QfiQKoxd Salisbury of finding 




place in his Ministry for gentlemen out- 
side the Conservative camp made it im- 
possible not only to satisfy reasonable 
aspirations on the part of new men of his 


own party, but even to reinstate some ex- 
Ministers, Some, like Baron de Worms, 
were shelved with a peerage. Others, over- 
looked, were left to find places on back 


cold. Whilst most of the leading members of 
the Liberal Unionist wing, including Mr. 
Jesse Collings and Mr. Powell Williams, 
were provided with office, Mr. Courtney*s 
claims were ignored* and Sir John Lubbock's 
were probably never considered. 

Amongst Conservative members 
who had not been in office but 
were not alone in their belief 
that they were well fitted for it 
were Mr. Gibson Bowles and 
Mr, George Wyndham — the latter since 
deservedly provided for, Moreover, to 
a corner seat below the gangway returned 
Mr. James Lowther, thought good enough 
in Disraeli's time to be Under-Secretary 
for the Colonies and Chief Secretary 
for Ireland- Since the death of Lord 
Beaconsfield kings had arisen in Egypt who 
knew not " Jemmy," or, at least, forgot his 
existence at a time when Ministerial offices 
were dispensed, The member for Last 
Thanet, first returned for York in the summer 
of 1865, is not only personally popular 
in the House, but has high standing as an old 
Parliamentary hand. If he had liked to tum 
rusty, he might have done the Conservative 
Party at least as much harm as Mr- Horsman 
when in the same mood wrought to the party 
with which, to the last, he ranked himself. 

who kkt:w wot jemmy. 

benches above or below the gangway. Of 
men who held office in Lord Salisbury's 
former Administration, Mr, Jackson, Sir 
James Fergusson, Sir \Y\ Hart -Dyke, and 
Sir E. Ashniead-Bartlett were left out in the 

From time to time Mr, Lowther has vindi- 
cated his independence of Ministerial disci- 
pline by dividing the House on the question 
of the futility of reading, at the commence- 
ment of recurring Sessions, the standing order 




forbidding peers to interfere with elections. 
He has not gone beyond that, and whenever 
attempt has been made from the Opposi- 
tion side to inflict damage on the best of all 
Governments, he has ranged himself on the 
side of Ministers, 

Sir W. Hart -Dyke, Sir James 
over- Fergusson, and the late Sir VV. 
looked, Forwood, instead of openly re- 
senting neglect, on more than 
one occasion went out of their way to 
defend the colleagues of the Prime Minister 
who slighted them, Mr. Wyndham was 
last Session not less generously loyal Mr- 
Tommy Bowles, it is true, has been on 
occasion fractious. As for Sir E, Ashmead- 
Bartlett, when he recovered from the shock 
of realization that Lord Salisbury had not 
only formed a Ministry without including 
him in its membership, but looked as if he 
would be able to carry it on, he showed signs 
of resentment. Through successive Sessions 
he has sedulously 
endeavoured to 
embarrass an un- 
appreciative Pre- 
mier by cunningly 
de vi sed quest ions 
addressed to the 
Colonial Secretary 
or to the Under- 
Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs. 
Mr, Chamberlain 
and Mr, Curzon 
alike proved able 
to hold their own, 
and the Sheffield 
Knight coming out 
to kick has found 
himself fulfilling the 
the football. 



humble function of 

more serious defection was 
threatened last Session as the 
result of the distrust and dis- 
content in Ministerial circles 
of Lord Salisbury's foreign policy. Mr. 
Yerburgh, moved by apprehension that the 
interests of the British Empire in the Far 
East were at stake, instituted a series of 
weekly dinners at the Junior Carlton, where 
matters were talked over The dinners 
were excellent, the wines choice, and Mr, 
Yerburgh has a delicate taste in cigars. 
This meeting at dinner instead of at tea, as 
was the fashion in the Liberal camp at the 
time of Mr. Gladstone's trouble over the 
Irish University Bill in 1873, seemed to in- 
dicate manlier purpose, But nothing came of 

it, except a distinct advancement of Mr. 
Yerburgh's position in the House of Com- 
mons. He, as spokesman of the malcontents, 
found opportunity to display a complete 
mastery of an intricate geographical and 
political position, combined with capacity for 
forcibly and clearly stating his case. 

Thus Lord Salisbury remained master of 
himself though China fell Had Mr. Glad- 
stone been in his position, under precisely 
similar circumstances, it would have been 
Her Majesty's Ministry that would have 
fallen to pieces. 

As usual the recess has seen the 

thf ^ na * K°i n g over to l ^e majority 
of old members of the House of 
^ * Commons. Two who have died 

since the prorogation were distinct types of 
utterly divergent classes. There was nothing 
in common between the Earl of Winchitsea 
and Mr. T« B. Potter, except that they both 
sat in the 1880 Parliament, saw the rise of 

the Fourth Party, 
,.* and the crumbling 

away of Mr. Glad- 
stone's magnificent 
majority. Mr, 
Potter was by far 
the older member, 
having taken his 
seat for Rochdale 
on the death of 
Mr. Cobden in 
1865. Except 
physically, he did 
not fill a large 
place in the House, 
but was much es- 
teemed on both 
sides for his honest 
purpose and his genial good temper. 

This last was imperturbable. It was not 
to be disturbed even by a double misfortune 
that accompanied one of the Cobden Club's 
annual dining expeditions to Greenwich. On 
the voyage out, passing Temple Pier, one of 
the guests fell overboard. At the start on 
the return journey, another guest, a distin- 
guished Frenchman, stepping aboard as he 
thought, fell into the gurgling river, and was 
fished out with a boat-hook. Yet Mr, Potter, 
President of the Club, largely responsible for 
the success of the outing, did not on either 
occasion intermit his beaming smile. 

He was always ready to be of 

a buffer service in whatsoever unobtrusive 

state, manner. The House cherishes 

tender memories of a scene in 

1890. The fi°ht in Committee Room 


i6 4 


No. 15 had recently closed. Its memories 
still seared the breasts of the Irish 
members* Members were never certain that 
at any moment active hostilities might not 
commence even under the ^ye ui the 

Thames barge slipping down the river with 
the tide. He made his way to the bench 
where the severed Irish Leaders sat, 
and planted himself cut between them, 
they perforce moving to right and left to 


Speaker* One night a motion by Mr John 
M or ley raising the Irish question brought 
a large muster of the contending forces. 
Mr. Parnell, who had temporarily withdrawn 
from the scene, put in 
an appearance with the 
rest He happened to 
seat himself on the same 
bench as Mr. Justin 
McCarthy, whom the 
majority of the Irish 
members had elected to 
succeed him in the leader- 
ship* Only a narrow 
space divided the twain. 
The mos t appr e hens i ve 
did not anticipate militant 
action on the part of Mr P 
McCarthy, But, looking 
at Mr. Pamells pale, stern 
face, knowing from report 
of proceedings in Com* 
mittee Room No. 15 what 
passion smouldered 
beneath that mild exterior, 
timid members thought of 
what might happen, sup- 
posing the two rose together 
diversely claiming the ear of the House as 
Leader of the Irish Party. 

At this moment Mr. T. B. Potter entered 
and moved slowly up the House like a 

Digitized by LiOOglC 



make room. Seeing him there, his white 
waistcoat shimmering in the evening light 
like the mainsail of an East India man, the 
House felt that all was well. Mr. Parnell 
was a lon^-armed man ; 
but, under whatsoever 
stress of passion, he could 
not get at Mr. McCarthy 
across the broad space of 
the member for Rochdale. 
Lord Winchil- 
sea sat in this 
same Parlra- 

START. me p m Mr 

Finch-Hatton. He early 
made his mark by a maiden 
speech delivered on one 
of the interminable debates 
on Egypt He was con- 
tent to leave it there, 
never, as far as I re- 
member, again taking part 
in set debate- His appear- 
ance was striking. Many 
years after, when he had 
succeeded to th« earldom, 
i happened to be present 
when he rose from the 
luncheon - table at Haverholme Priory to 
acknowledge the toast of his health, By 
accident or design he stood under a con- 
temporary portrait of his great ancestor, 




Christopher Hatton, Queen Elizabeth's 
Lord Chancellor. The likeness between 
the founder of the family and a scion 
separated by the space of more than three 
hundred years was almost startling. 

Lord Winchilsea aged rapidly. When he 
made his maiden speech in the House of 
Commons he had not advanced beyond 
the stage of the young dandy. His face 
was a shade of ivory, the pallor made more 
striking by the coal-black hair. His attitude, 
like his dress and everything about him, was 
carefully studied. His left hand, rigidly 
extended, lightly rested behind his back. 
His right hand, when not in action, hid his 
finger-tips in the breast of a closely-buttoned 
frock-coat Occasionally, he withdrew his 
hand and made stiff gestures in the air as if 
be were writing hieroglyphs. Occasionally, 
he emphasized a point by slightly bowing to 
the amused audience. 

The matter of his speech was excellent, its 
form, occasionally, as extravagant as his get- 
up. The House roared with laughter when 
Mr. Finch- Hatton, pointing stiff finger-tips 
at Mr. Gladstone smiling on the Treasury 
Bench, invited members to visit the Premier 
on his uneasy couch and watch him moaning 
and tossing as the long procession of his 
pallid victims passed before him. This 
reminiscence of a scene from "Richard III." 
was a great success, though not quite in the 
manner Mr. Hatton, working it out in his 
study, had forecast 

A man of great natural capacity, wide 
culture, and, as was shown in his later con- 
nection with agriculture, of indomitable 
industry, he would, having lived down his 
extravagancies, have made a career in the 
Commons. Called thence by early doom he 
went to the Lords, and was promptly and 
finally extinguished. 
w.^^^r, Another old member of the 

MUSTERED „ _l j- j • ^ 

House who died in the recess is 

colman's ^ r * C°' man - The great mustard 
manufacturer, whose name was 
carried on tin boxes to the uttermost ends 
of the earth, never made his mark in the 
House of Commons. I doubt whether he 
ever got so far as to work off his maiden 
speech. A quiet, kindly, shrewd man of 
business, he was content to look on whilst 
others fought and talked. He came too late 
to the House to be ever thoroughly at one 
with it, and took an early opportunity of 

Mr. Gladstone had a high respect for him, 
and occasionally visited his beautiful home 
in Norfolk. One of these occasions became 

historic by reason of Mr. Gladstone unwit- 
tingly making a little joke. Coming down 
to breakfast one morning, and finding the 
house-party already gathered in the room, 
Mr. Gladstone cheerily remarked, u What, 
are we all mustered ? 5> 

He never knew why this innocent obser- 
vation had such remarkable success with 
Mr. J. J. Colman's guests. 

A few more recollections of Mr. 

Gladstone whilst still in harness. 


by LiOOglC 

~ ^ r ^^ , .r I remember meeting him at a 

TABLE-TALK. „ , . & , . ., 

well-known house during the 
Midlothian campaign of 1885. He came in 
to luncheon half an hour late, and was 
rallied by the host upon his unpunctuality. 
"You know," he said, " only the other day 
you lectured us upon the grace of punctuality 
at luncheon-time." 

Mr. Gladstone took up this charge with 
energy familiar at the time in the House of 
Commons when repelling one of Lord 
Randolph Churchill's random attacks. 
Finally, he drew from the host humble 
confession that he had been in error, that 
so far from recommending punctuality at 
luncheon-time he had urged the desirability 
of absence of formality at the meaL " Any- 
one,' 1 he said, " should drop in at luncheon 
when they please and sit where they 
please. " 

Through the meal he was in the liveliest 
humour, talking in his rich, musical voice 
After luncheon we adjourned to the library, 
a room full of old furniture and precious 
memorials, chiefly belonging to the Stuart 
times. On the shelves were a multitude 
of rare books. Mr. Gladstone picked up 
one, and sitting on a broad window seat, 
began reading and discoursing about it. 
Setting out for a walk, lie was got up in 
a most extraordinary style. He wore a 
narrow-skirted square-cut tail - coat, made, 
I should say, in the same year as the 
Reform BilL Over his shoulders hung an 
inadequate cape, of rough hairy cloth, once 
in vogue but now little seen. On his head 
was a white soft felt hat The back view 
as he trudged off at four-mile-an-hour pace 
was irresistible. 

Mrs. Gladstone watched over him like a 
hen with its first chicken. She was always 
pulling up his collar, fastening a button, or 
putting him to sit in some particular chair 
out of a draught. These little attentions Mr. 
Gladstone accepted without remark, with 
much the placid air a small and good-tempered 
babe wears when it is being tucked in its 

cot ' Original from 


1 66 


In the Session of 1890, Mr. 
Gladstone rented a house in 

house St J ames s Square, a big, roomy, 
gloomy mansion, built when 
George L was King. On the pillars of 
the porch stand in admirable preserva- 
tion two of the wrought iron extinguisher^ 
in which in those days 
the link - boys used to 
thrust their torches when 
they had brought master 
or mistress home, or 
convoyed a dinner 
guest. Inside hideous 
light absorbing flock 
wall - papers prevailed. 
One gained an idea, 
opportunity rare in 
these days, of the murki- 
ness amid which our 
grandfathers dwelt 

Dining there one 
night, I found the host 
made up for all house- 
hold shortcomings. He 
talked with unbroken 
flow of spirits, always 
having more to say on 
any subject that turned 
up, and saying it 
better, than any expert 
present His memory 
was as amazing as his 
opport unities of acquir- 
ing knowledge had 
been unique* 

As we sat at table he, in his 
eighty -first year, recalled, as if 
it had happened the day before, 
an incident that befell when 
lie was eighteen months old. Prowling 
about the nursery on all -fours, there sud- 
denly flashed upon him consciousness of 
the existence of his nurse, as she towered 
above him. He remembered her voice and 
the very pattern of the frock she wore, 
This was his earliest recollection, his first 
clear consciousness of existence. Mis 
memory of Canning when he stood for 
Liverpool in 1K12 was perfectly clear ; 
indeed, he was then nearly three years old, 
and took an intelligent interest in public 

Of later date was his recollection of Pnrlia- 





mentary Elections, and the strange processes 
by which in the good old days they were 
accomplished. The poll at Liverpool was kept 
open sometimes for weeks, and the custom 
was for voters to be shut up in pens ten at a 
time. At the proper moment they were led 
out of these in closures and conducted to the 
polling - booths, where 
they recorded their 
votes. These musters 
were called " tallies," 
and the reckoning up 
of them was a matter 
watched with breathless 
interest in the con- 

It was a 

DOCTORING point of 

a tally, keen com- 

which side should first 
land a "tally" at the 
polling- booth. Mr; 
Gladstone told with 
great gusto of an acci- 
dent that befell one in 
the first quarter of the 
century. The poll 
opened at eight o'clock 
in the morning. The 
Liberals, determined to 
make a favourable start, 
marshalled ten voters, 
and as early as four in 
the morning filled the 
pen by the polling- 
booth. To all appearances the Conserva- 
tives were beaten in this first move. But 
their defeat was only apparent. Shortly after 
seven o'clock a barrel of beer, conveniently 
tapped, with mugs handy, was rolled up 
within hand- reach of the pen, where time 
huiiy heavy on the hands of the expectant 
voters. They naturally regarded this as a 
delicate attention on the part of their 
friends, and did full justice to their hospitable 
forethought. After a while, consternation 
fell upon them. Man after man hastily 
withdrew till the pen was empty, and ten 
Conservatives waiting in reserve, rushed in 
and took possession of the place. 

"The beer/ 7 said Mr. Gladstone, laughing 
till the tears came into his eyes, "had been 
heavily jalaped," 

by Google 

Original from 


• * 


T was a sleepy little town, far 
from the busy world* almost 
hidden away in the back- 
woods. During the long 
summer days, small boys — 
and sometimes grown - up 
folks as well— hardly knew what to do to 
pass the time. It was an event of some 
importance, therefore, when one afternoon 
Grizzly Jim, the trapper, brought to the 
only hostelry the settlement could boast 
a live badger. He carried it in a big 
bag, and shook it out over the half-door 
into the empty 
stable, that the hotel- 
keeper and his 
friends might have 
a look at the shy 
and rarely - seen 
animal. At that 
hour there were 
not many people 
about, so when the 
other half of the 
stable door was 
drawn to, and the 
captive left alone, 
the news of its 
arrival was as yet 
known only to a few. 
Among these few, 
however, was the 
hotel - keeper's son 
Dick, a youngster 
about twelve years 
old, who had in- 
spected the badger 

with keenest interest and a critical eye* He 
had also listened to every word of the con- 
versation between Grizzly Jim and his father, 

and had gathered that they were going to 
pack up the beast in a box and send it off 
next day by the railroad to a city, some 
hundreds of miles distant, where all manner 
of strange creatures were kept in cages in 
a Zoo. So the badger would be lodged in 
the hotel for one night only, and Dick 
reflected that if any fun was to be got out 
of "the comical cuss/ 3 as he called it, there 
was no time to be losL 

After a quarter of an hour's solid thinking, 
Dick went out into the stable yard and 
dragged forth un old dog-kennel, which for a 

long time had lain 
disused in I he wood- 
shed. He rubbed 
it up a bit, plenti- 
fully littered it with 
fresh straw, and then 
set it down right in 
the middle of the 
yard. To the big 
chain he attached 
an old rusted iron 
kettle, which he 
pushed back into 
the kenne! among 
the straw as far 
as his arms could 
reach. These 
com pletedj 
Dick thrust 
his hands into 
his trouser 
pockets, and 
set off down 
the main 
street, whist- 
ling a tune. 





At a little distance he met his most inti- 
mate chum, Billy Green, the wheelwright's son. 

"Say, Billy," said Dick, "heard the 
noos ? " 


"Grizzly Jim's bin an' trapped a badger." 

"Wal, that don't count for much. Ain't 
anythink very 'xtrord'n'ry in his trappin' a 
badger, is there ? Comes reg'lar in his day's 
work, I reckon. Now, if it'd bin ah 
elephant or a gi-raffe " — the speaker paused 
to give full effect to his grin of sarcasm. 

" Oh ! bother yer elephants and yer 
gi-raffes," interrupted Dick, with impatience ; 
" I tell ye it's a real live badger." 

" A live one ? " asked Billy, his interest 
slightly stimulate^. 

" Yes, a live one. I see'd it shaken out of 
a bag. And it's up now this very minute at 

" Jee-whizz ! " cried Billy, all on the hop 
now with excitement. "Then I s'pose they're 
goin' to have a badger fight ? " 

" A badger # fight ! Who're ye gettin' at ? " 
retorted-Dick, ironically. 

" Why, ther'll be a badger fight with dogs, 
of course. Don't ye know, Dick, that a 
badger, when his dander's fairly riz, can fight 
like a whole sackful of wild cats ? It's rare 
sport, badger-baitin', I can tell ye, an' jest the 
real thing to try the stuff young dogs is made 

" Better'n rats ? " asked Dick, in turn 
growing excited at the vista of unexpected 
possibilities opening out before him. 

" Rats ain't in it with badgers," replied 
Billy, disdainfully. 

"Then I 'spect Grizzly Jim's gone down 
town to hunt up some dogs," suggested Dick. 

" Certain sure." 

"Wal, hadn't you best come to our place 
right now, an' have a good look at the critter 
'fore the crowd begins to roll up ? " 

" I guess there's some sense in that. Let's 
skoot along, Dick." 

So the two boys set off at a quick pace 
towards the hotel. And as they walked 
Dick described the badger's points. 

" He's got short stumpy legs, Billy, but 
terrible claws. Rip a dog open like winkin'." 

" And pooty sharp teeth too, I reckon ? " 

" I should jest say. Wouldn't like 'm try 
'em in my leg." 

"See you've got 'm in the old dog-kennel," 
remarked Billy, as they came in sight of the 
stable yard. 

" It's a strong chain that, you know," 
replied Dick, evasively. " Bruno, the old 
boarhound that died, couldn't break it." 


" Guess the chain'll hold the badger all 
right. But I can't see nothink of 'm in that 
there dog-hutch. I'll want ter have 'm out, 
Dick, in the open." 

" You'd best take care, Billy," cried Dick, 
as his companion laid hold of the chain. 
" Remember his claws." 

" Oh ! I'm not 'feard, you bet," replied 
Billy, loftily. " It needs somethin' more'n a 
badger to skeer me. Besides, he can't 
scratch or bite much through my leggin's." 

" Mind, Billy," continued Dick, with an 
intensely anxious look on his face. " I've 
warned ye. Don't ye come a hollerin' an' a 
blamin' me, if he takes a bit out of yer 

" Poof ! You keep back if ye'r fright'ned. 
Let me alone. Ill soon yank 'm inter day- 
light." And Billy made ready to haul at the 
chain. "Come out o' that, ye brute," he 
cried. " Yo ! ho ! out ye come ! " And he 
pulled with all his might. 

There was a fine old clatter 'as the iron 
kettle came clinkety-clink-clank on to the 
cobble stones ; and Dick just lay down on 
the ground, fairly doubled up with laughing. 

"Look out, Billy," he yelled amidst his 
convulsions of glee, " look out. That badger 
'11 bite ye through yer leggin's." 

P'or a minute Billy was speechless. -He 
felt so sick and faint-hearted that ordinary 
common-place language would have been an 
insult to his feelings. " You tarnation fraud ! " 
he at last managed to gasp, as he glanced 
from the battered kettle at his feet towards 
his spluttering friend. 

But merriment is infectious, and the 
supreme ridiculousness of his position 
appealed to Billy's sense of humour. So the 
flushed, angry look passed by imperceptible 
degrees into a sickly smile, and the smile at 
last became transformed into a broad grin. 
Then Billy sat down on the kettle, and 
laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. 

All of a sudden Dick recovered his gravity. 
" Quick, Billy," he cried, " shove the kettle 
back. Here's the schoolmaster comin' 'long 
the street." 

With a more rapid flash of understanding 
than he had ever shown for a new rule in 
arithmetic, Billy grasped the situation, and- 
pushed the kettle into the kennel out of 
sight. The boys .stood together, just as 
smug and quiet as if they were setting out 
for Sunday-school. 

" Billy," said Dick, wishful to put matters 
right now that the victim of his joke had 
become his confederate for future operations, 
" I didn't teQ)i4c}jf!>a| ffbffle's a live badger in 




the stable as true as I'm standin' here. But 
I never said 'twas in the kennel/' 

Billy, however, was intent only on the 
business in hand. The prospect of sport 
caused the personal humiliation of a minute 
ago to be forgotten. There was no need, 
nor time* for explanations. • 

" Whish ! Stow all that," he whispered, 
eagerly. u Let's meet *m at the gate." 

The two conspirators sauntered towards 
the entrance to the yard, as the schoolmaster, 
an elderly, grave-faced man, drew near to the 
stable buildings, 

t( flood day, sir," said Billy, as both 
youngsters jerked their hands towards their 
caps awkwardly, but none the less deferen- 

M Ah ! how do you do, boys ? " responded 
the teacher, coming to a halt and bestowing 
a pleasant nod of recognition on his pupils* 
u I hope you are enjoying your holidays ? w 


"Yes, sir, first class/' replied Dick, Then 
Billy boldly opened the campaign. " Please, 
Mr. Brown, do you know the difference 
between a mountain badger and a prairie 
badger? " 

" I fancy I do, my lad. The one's darker 
than the other." 

" Well, sir, Dick's fathers had a live badger 
brought to him by Grizzly Jim, and we don't 
know which kind it is." Billy skated very 
cleverly on the thin ice of truth. 

"Just let me have a sight of the animal/' 
said the schoolmaster. At the same moment 

he followed the direction of Dick's look, 
and there and then fell unsuspectingly into 
the trap prepared for him. " Ah ! I ste 
yuuVe got him chained up in the kennel," 
he remarked, as he stepped into the stable 

u Do badgers bite ? " asked Dick, evading 
the issue with splendidly assumed innocence. 
*' Oh \ they don't show their teeth much, 
unless they're badgered," replied Mr, Brown, 
with a laugh, thoroughly pleased with himself 
at having been able to perpetrate a little 
joke. " Let's have him out, boys. I'll soon 
tell whether he's a mountain badger or a 
prairie badger." 

Dick and Billy hung back, apparently 
fearful of approaching too near to the kennei. 
il Dont be afraid, my lads," continued the 
master, in an encouraging way. £1 He's all 
safe at the end of a chain. See: I'll pull 
him out for you. Va ! hoop ! Out you come, 
my fine fellow." 

And the schoolmaster lugged at the 
chain ; and clinkety-clink-clank came the 
iron kettle on to the cobble stones. 

No respect for either age or authority 
could restrain the boys from going off 
into a fit of laughter. Their teachers 
face was a study ; its look of blank 
amazement would have made a wooden 
totem ■ pole hilarious. But they were 
relieved in mind, all the same, when a 
-^ smile, even though a grim one, stole over 
the stern, pallid features of the man who 
had it in his power to make the lives of 
wayward boys utterly miserable, 

"Its lucky for you young rascals that 
this is holiday time," remarked the school- 
master, drily. " Pve got a tawse in my 
desk that can bite a good deal sharper 
than this badger," Then, in spite of a 
momentary feeling of resentment, he 
joined in the laugh against himself. 

" Please, sir," explained Dick, partly in 

a spirit of penitence, but mainly with a 

view to mitigate the offence, "the live 

badger that drizzly Jim brought father is in 

the stable right enough. It was you yourself 

that went straight for the kennel.* 

"Thafs so," replied the schoolmaster, 
stroking his beard meditatively. " I should 
have remembered the maxim of the copy- 
books, ' Think before you leap/ Well, we're 
all liable to make mistakes, I suppose —even 
parsons," he added, after a pause, and sinking 
his voice almost to a whisper. He was 
gazing now down the street, with a far-away 
look in his countenance. 
The b^lfjftoaf fflflffil* g' ance ' n ^ same 



direction. A stout, pompous-looking little 
man, with black coat and white collar, was 
in sight. 

"The parson's an erudite Doctor of 
Divinity," continued the schoolmaster, speak- 
ing low, and in an absent-minded fashion. 
" He's had all the advantages of a college 
education — a fact which he knows, and 
takes care to let other people know. A 
man of learning is the parson, and a great 
authority on natural history." 

The boys did not hear, nor exactly under- 
stand, every word spoken ; but the last 
sentence fell clearly on their ears, and the 
looks they exchanged indicated the dawning 
of intelligence. 

" Yes ; I wonder," murmured the peda- 
gogue, reflectively, " I really wonder, now, 
whether the parson could tell the difference 
between a mountain badger and a prairie 

" By golly ! " screamed Billy, in frantic 
excitement at the full flash of comprehen- 
sion. " Jam the kettle back into the kennel, 
Dick. Don't say a word, Mr. Brown ; please 
don't. Leave him to us." 

The schoolmaster, chuckling to himself, 
began to examine a rose-bush growing against 
the wall. Soon the parson was at the gate. 

" Good evening, Mr. Brown," he called 

" Good evening," mumbled the teacher, 
hardly daring to look up from the roses. 

" What have we here ? " continued the 
clergyman, observing the unwonted position 
of the kennel, and also noticing the flurried 
look on the boys' faces. "What have we 
here ? " he repeated, coming forward into the 

" Please, sir," began Dick, a dig in the ribs 
from Billy having warned him that it was his 
turn to open fire. "Grizzly Jim's brought 
father a real live badger." 

" A badger, and a live one ! Well ? " 

" And schoolmaster don't seem to be able 
to tell whether it's a mountain badger or a 
prairie badger," added Dick, with a grin, 
adroitly bringing the third confederate into 
the field of action. 

" Didn't you examine the teeth, Mr. 
Brown ? " asked the parson. " The colour 
of the fur is no real test, you know." 

" I can't say I've looked at its teeth," 
replied the teacher, with a somewhat ghastly 
smile. He had not bargained for being any- 
thing more than a passive witness of the 
parson's discomfiture, but here he was now, 
by 1 )ick's act of unblushing treachery, thrust 
into the position of an active accomplice. 

" Well, we must ascertain the animal's 
dentition. You see, in a mountain badger, 
which is more carnivorous than the prairie 
variety, the canine teeth are more fully 
developed." As the schoolmaster had said, 
the parson was assuredly a learned man, and 
an authority on 'natural history, to have all 
this information so readily at his command. 

" But how are you going to look at his 
teeth ? " asked Billy, practically. " I reckon 
badgers bite." 

" I'll soon show you, my boy," replied the 
parson, with a patronizing smile. " He's in 
this kennel, is he ? " 

Billy's only response was a smile of satis- 
faction like that worn by the cat when he 
spied that the door of the canary's cage had 
been left open. But the clergyman did not 
wait for an answer, for, turning directly to 
Dick, he asked the boy whether he could find 
him some such thing as a piece of sacking. 

" I guess I can," responded Dick, darting 
off like a shot towards the stables. Within 
the minute he was back with an old corn-bag. 
The parson was in the act of turning up his 
coat-sleeves, and was still discoursing learnedly 
upon the carnivorous and frugivorous tastes 
of the different species of the plantigrade 
family. The schoolmaster was listening 
attentively, speaking not one word : his 
attitude was a deferential one, or a guilty one, 
according to the observer's point of view. 

"That will do first class, my boy," said the 
minister, taking the sack from Dick's hands. 
" Now, you two lads, pull the chain gently, 
and I'll get this round the badger as he 
emerges from the kennel. We must look 
out for his claws, you know, as well as for his 
teeth ; because the badger, being a burrowing 
animal, is armed with long sharp claws, which 
he also adapts to purposes of self-defence, 
using them with great courage and effect 
when attacked. Slowly now, boys ; cautious 
does it. Here he comes ! There you are ! 
I have him all safe ! " 

And the parson, as a heap of accumulating 
straw began to appear at the mouth of the 
kennel, pushed in the sack, and wrapped it 
tightly round the black object beyond. 

" Pull now again, boys ; gently. That's 
right. Now he's out." 

Then the parson paused, and looked a bit 
puzzled. " This badger must have been 
injured, surely. He doesn't show much 
fight." Saying these words, he proceeded to 
cautiously raise one corner of the sacking. 
" Whoa ! now ; steady. No snapping, you 
brute," continued the parson, in a purring, 
conciliatory voictj^^^j slowly lifted the bag. 




The spout of the iron kettle met his dum- 
foundered gaze ! 

Dick and Billy were by this time hiding 
behind the water-barrel, stuffing handkerchiefs 
into their mouths. The schoolmaster looked 
down with a glee- 
ful grin it was 
impossible to re- 

"YMiat is the 
meaning of this, 
Mr. Brown?" 
sputtered the 
parson, rising to 
his feet. The 
flush on his face 
was due less to 
resentment than 
to wounded pride. 

" It just means, 
Mr. Blinkers, that 
these young 
scamps first fooled 
me, and for the 
life of me I can't 
deny but I've en- 
joyed their pass- 
ing the joke on 
to you/' 

The schoolmaster laughed outright, but 
the parson still looked painfully self-conscious. 

"The miserable little prevaricators!" he 

"No," said the teacher, "you can't call 
them that. The boys haven't spoken a word 
that's untrue, because the badger, I believe, 
is actually in the stable over there. In 
taking it for granted that the beast was in 
this kennel, we rushed to conclusions, and 
have had to pay the penalty." 

The mortified expression on the parson's 
face became somewhat softened, He gazed 
in a half-rueful, half-amused way at the old iron 
kettle, still partially covered by the sacking. 

"To think that I was led into talking 
about the dentition of that — that — infernal 
thing," he sighed. " Oh I it would need a 
layman to express my feelings," he added, 
clenching his fists as if in impotent despair, 
while with a feeble smile he glanced at the 

"Well," laughed the latter, "strong lan- 
guage isn J t in my line any more than yours, 
Mr. Blinkers, so Tm afraid I can't oblige, I 
fancy, however, that if ever again anyone 
asks you or me the difference between a 
mountain badger and a prairie badger we'll 
be just a trifle shy at answering — eh, my 

Digitized by GoOgle 


The parson laughed outright ; the fit 
of dudgeon was finally past. And when 
the two men left the stable yard arm-in- 
arm, the mischief-makers, who still remained 
discreetly invisible, could see the backs and 

shoulders of both 
of them fairly 
shaking with 

Round the 
corner, the 
schoolmaster and 
the minister met 
the hotel - keeper 
standing at the 
front door of his 
hostelry; and with 
the greatest good 
humour in the 
world they told 
him the story, 
The joke was 
really too excel- 
lent to keep ; 
moreover, it was 
sure to go the 
round of the 
whole town be- 
fore the world was 
many hours older, so that the victims con- 
sulted their own personal comfort best by 
leading off the inevitable laugh, and so 3 in a 
measure at least, disarming ridicule. 

" The whipper-snappers ! n said the burly 
host; hardly knowing at first whether to 
condole with the dignitaries of church and 
school or to indulge the merriment that was 
bubbling up within him. 

"Boys will be boys 3 " remarked the parson, 

"And the trick was cleverly done," added 
the schoolmaster, appreciatively. He was 
in reality too overjoyed at his own success 
in having hauled the parson into the 
pillory alongside of him to feel any resent- 

" Oh ! well, we do need a laugh sometimes 
in this dull place/ 1 replied the hotel-keeper, 
allowing the broad smile hitherto repressed 
to suffuse his rubicund countenance, But 
he kept his mirth within moderate bounds so 
long as the others were in hearing. When 
they were gone, however, loud and long was 
his laughter. 

11 Dick, the little cuss ! ]n he cried, slapping 
his thigh. " And Billy, that young varmint ! 
It'll tickle his dad to death when he hears it. 
To fool the schoolmaster showed a bit of 
pluck, y^^aial^dpwn the passon -oh, 




lor ! " And the jolly innkeeper laughed till 
his sides ached. 

After a little time drizzly Jim slouched 
into the bar, and the story was retailed for 
his benefit. The old trapper laughed heartily, 
although in the silent way his profession had 
taught him. 

" Blame my skin ! " he exclaimed, " if it 
ain't the foxiest thing in the snarin' line I've 
struck for a long time. But I reckon, boss, 
I'll take a hand now in this 'ere game. 
You fix up an excuse to git the youngsters 
out of the yard for ten minutes, and I 
reckon I'll make 'em skin their eyes with 
'mazement next time they yank out that 

Jim sauntered round the front of the 
house, while the host went direct to the 
stable yard. He found the two boys in close 
confabulation near the dog-kennel ; and he 
also quietly observed that the kettle was again 
inside, so that the trap was clearly baited for 
the next victim that might chance to come 

" Halloa, Billy ! " cried the hotel-keeper, 
apparently unobservant of the fact that the 
kennel was not in its usual place, and quite 
ignorant of the game that was being played ; 
" can you help Dick eat some apples ? " 

"Can a duck swim?" asked the youngster, 
perkily, by way of reply. Every urchin in 
the place was on terms of easy familiarity 
with mine host of the inn. 

" Then round you come, the pair of you, 
to the orchard." And for the next quarter 
of an hour the boys' game was changed — 
badgers were out and apples were in. 

Meanwhile Grizzly Jim was losing no time. 
When he saw the coast clear, he walked up 
the yard and entered the stable. There he 
dexterously caught the badger by the nape 
of the neck ; it was not a full-grown animal, 
and the experienced trapper had no difficulty 
in handling it. He carried it out at arm's 
length, the beast clawing the air vigorously 
but vainly. Reaching the kennel, Jim quickly 
substituted the badger for the kettle at the 
end of the chain. Then, when the captive 
had retreated to the furthest recess of its new 
quarters, he carefully re-arranged the straw 
litter ; and, tossing the discarded kettle into 
the wood-shed, sauntered away with a sar- 
donic grin on his sun-dried countenance. 
He crossed the street to the grocer}' store 
opposite, whence he could command a view 
of the yard. 

A few minutes later the boys, their pockets 
stuffed full of apples, returned to the scene 
of their exploits, followed at a little distance 

by LiOOgle 

by the hotel-keeper. The latter wore a look 
of good-humoured expectancy ; for, although 
he did not know precisely what the trapper's 
plans were, he felt sure that there was fun in 
near prospect. Dick was busy munching an 
apple and cogitating how it would be possible 
to victimize his father, when his eye caught 
sight of drizzly Jim crossing the street from 
the grocery store with a big box on his 

" I guess, dad, here's Jim a-comin' to take 
that badger away," remarked the boy, indicat- 
ing by means of the half-eaten apple in his 
hand the lanky figure of the trapper. 

" Most likely," answered his father, with a 
merry twinkle in his eye. 

Billy, however, had at once seen the possi- 
bilities of this new development, and his lace 
lit up instantly with all the keen excitement 
of a fox-terrier in the act of pouncing on a 
rat. " We must take a rise out o' Grizzly 
Jim," he whispered eagerly to his comrade in 

As for Jim, he seemed to play right into 
the young rascals' hands, for the first remark 
he made was this : " The schoolmaster has 
jest bin sayin', boys, that you've got my 
badger in that 'ere dog-kennel." 

" Wal, and what if we have? " asked Billy, 

" Oh ! Pm makin' no complaint. But 
here's his box for the railroad, and I think 
we'd best put him in it right now. P'raps 
you'll lend me a hand, youngsters ? " 

" Right you are, Jim," cried both boys 
with alacrity, advancing towards the kennel. 

" Did jevver know sich luck ? " asked Billy, 
in a whisper, nudging his companion with 
his elbow. 

" It's 'nough to make a feller die with 
laughiny chuckled Dick, under his breath. 

" Guess, then, yer not afeared o' badgers, 
you boys ? " drawled Jim, setting down the 

" Not badgers of this sort," replied Billy, 
with a grimace. 

"So you've found out this 'un's only a 
babby ? " continued the trapper ; " hasn't got 
all his teeth yet, eh, an' couldn't scratch very 
hard if he tried ? " As Jim spoke he picked 
up the slack of the chain, to the boys' intense 

" I reckon the badger at the end o' that 
chain won't hurt us much," responded Billy, 
airily. But Dick had to turn his face away 
to hide the laughter with which he was now 
almost bursting. 

" Wal, boys, if I pull 'm out, you'll ketch 
'm, will ye, an' shove 'm in the box ? " 



i n 

"Right you are, Jim. You jest pull, and 
well grab." 

M But pVaps you'd be safer to let me come 
an' help ye hold the critter," added the 
trapper, shaking his head doubtfully. 

M Help be Mowed," cried Billy. « I reckon 
we don't need no help to manage this Vre 
outfit, eh," Dick? ,J And the boys laughed in 
each other's faces, as they carried the box 
close up to the kennel, and opened the lid 
in readiness. 

" Right ye are, sonnies," replied Jim. 

ished eyes of Grizzly Jim, the boys fairly 
flung themselves upon the black object at 
the end of the chain. 

Then there followed, oh ! such a yelling 
and a screeching, such a snapping and a 
snarling I Dirk rolled over Hilly, and boys 
and badger were mixed up in a squirming 

"Shall I conic and hdp ye hold the 
critter ? * called out the trapper, cheerfully 

'* No, but come and help us let him go," 
screamed Dick. 




" Have yer own way, But don't ye forget I 
gave ye fair warninV 5 

" We can look after ourselves, you bet, 71 
answered Billy, impatiently. " Jest you 
haul away." 

" Wal, here we go," said Jim, a faint smile 
showing on his thin lips. "Grip him the 
moment he shows his nose, Don't be 
frightened at the sight of his claws," 

The lads were stooping ready to grab at 
the old iron kettle the moment it should 
make its appea ranee. Both were chuckling 
with glee. And the best of the joke was that 
Grizzly Jim had brought the whole thing 
right upon himself ! 

11 Hoop, la! 15 cried Jim, and with a pull 
that would have dragged a camel off its legs, 
he jerked the occupant of the kennel into 
the open* 

In th:*r eagerness as to who should hold 
aloft the spurious badger before the aston- 

" My sakes ! " roared Billy ; " he's got me 
by the leg. " 

But at this stage Grizzly Jim came to the 
rescue. The young badger was quickly 
caught t and popped into the box, while the 
disconcerted and crestfallen urchins struggled 
to their feet 

11 Guess badgers arc kind o" more savage 
beasties than ye reckoned on," remarked the 
trapper, with dry sarcasm. 

"No wonder the schoolmaster and the 
passon were skeerctl/ 7 laughed the hotel- 
keeper, who had enjoyed the whole scene 
from a little distance. 

Then it dawned upon the youngsters how 
neatly the tables had been turned on them ; 
so, in spite of torn clothes and scratched 
skins, they did their best like true sportsmen 
to grin and look pleasant. But it will l>e 
some time before they try to take another rise 
out of Grizzly Jim, 

by Google 

Original from 

A Common Crystal, 

Bv John R. Watkins. 





ARI) to believe, but true. The 
locomotive shown in the illus- 
tration below rests and runs 
upon a kike of salt a surface 
almost as solid as the road- 
bed of a great passenger 
system. The engine puffs to and fro all day 
long on the snow-like crust, while a score of 
steam-ploughs make progress with a rattling, 
rasping noise, dividing the lake into long and 
glittering mounds of salt, which are shovelled 
by busy Indians on to the waiting cars. The 
sun shines with almost overwhelming 

Here in Salton, striking sights may be 
seen in the full light of day. One gets 
some little idea of them from the photo- 
graphs, but the general effect of this huge 
natural store-house of commercial salt, its 
enormous crystal lake, and its massive 
pyramids of white awaiting shipment, can be 
but partially conceived from our pictures. 

To enter into a complete description of 
the remarkable industry which transfers a 
common crystal from a Jake of brine to 
the working-man's table w T ould be beyond 
the limits of our magazine. It would 

Frum a I 


IP Autograph. 

power, and the dazzling carpet of salt 
stretches away to the horizon, where it 

The scene is in Salton, in far-off Southern 
California. Two months ago we described 
a wonderful city of salt which for centuries 
has existed below the surface of the earth. 


involve a discussion of chemical symbols 

and formulae which would make the printed 

[>age a cryptograph, Better is it, briefly, to 

say that much of the salt found in the 

domestic salt-cellar comes from the water of 

the sea, which, by evaporation, is turned 

from liquid into snowy powder In Salton 
1 Original frorri 




Lake, which lies 280ft* below the sea level, 
the brine rises in the bottom of the marsh 
from numerous springs in the neighbouring 
foot-hills, and, quickly evaporating, leaves 
deposits of almost pure salt, varying from 
ioin. to 2oin, in thickness, and thus forming 
a substantial crust. The temperature ranges 
from rjo to 150 degrees, and all the labour 
is performed byCoahuilki Indians, who work 
ten hours a day, and seem not in the least 
to mind the enervating heat. In fact, these 
Indians are so inured to the fatiguing work 

The interesting history of the salt industry 
in California is largely associated with the 
name of Plummer Brothers, who in 1864, in the 
person of the late Mr. J, A. Plummer, made 
the first genuine attempt to produce a first-class 
domestic salt. The extensive and striking 
premises of this noted firm in Centreville, Cali- 
fornia, are shown in the two illustrations on 
the next page. Situated as the district is close 
to the bay, the industry is dependent to a cer- 
tain extent upon the tides. The early spring 
tides have little effect in drawing away the 

From a) 


[ FinjIjJfcTUlJt. 

that they are not affected by the dazzling 
sunlight, which distresses the eyes of those 
unaccustomed to it, and compels the use of 
coloured glasses. One of these Indians may 
be seen sitting on the steam-plough shown 
on this page. He is one of a tribe of 
large and well - developed men— peaceable, 
civilized, sober, and industrious, living in 
comfortable houses built by the New Liver- 
pool Salt Works, with tables, chairs, forks, 
spoons, and many of the necessary articles of 
domestic civilization. He guides his plough 
over the long stretches of salt, running lightly 
at first over the surface to remove any 
vestiges of desert sand blown from far 
away, and then setting the blade to run 6in. 
deep in furrows 8ft. wide* Each plough 
harvests daily over 700 tons of pure salt, 
which is then taken to the mill to be ground 
and placed in sacks* Scores of men assist 
in the harvest by loading small u dump-cars, 11 
or trollies, on portable mils, the cargo being 
finally dumped on the large train or else 
carried direct to the manufactory, 

impurities which the river-floods bring into 
the bay; but the tides of June and July, 
rising as they do to a height of 6fL or 7ft., 
fill the marshes with a water fairly pure. 
The salt-makers have prewired for this influx 
of water by making reservoirs in large clay- 
bottomed tracts of marsh kind, and have, 
cleared them of weeds and grass. The 
water flows in and fills the reservoirs to a 
depth of from 15m, to i8in., and the gates 
are then closed. 

Like a large family, descending in size 
from father to youngest son, the six or seven 
evaporating ponds of a salt works appear. 
The large reservoir, being the father of this 
series of ponds, contains the gross amount of 
brine, the last two or three being called lime- 
ponds, owing to the amount of gypsum, lime, 
etc., precipitated at this stage of evaporation, 
Not to go too deeply into chemistry, it may 
Ihj said that the brine lingers in the iast of 
these ponds until a density of 106 degrees is 
obtained. The surface of the liquid is now 
dotted byOfipitta^Atishfts of white which 




Fwni d Phot*, by] 

THASSI'Ok['[.\». *;AET IN U 'EI^I-U.'llAKKOlVS. 

!#*■. ft A. Plmmwr. 

accumulate into streaks of drift-salt. This 
interesting development is shown in the illus- 
tration above, the streaky of salt looking like 
patches of surf on the sands of the sea-shore, 
The liquid is now run into crystallizing vats, 

where it remains until the salt crystals have 
formed at the bottom. It sometimes takes two 
months for a crop of salt to develop. In harvest- 
ing, the workman, donning large, flat sandals 
of wood, enters the vat with a galvanized 

h mm a f'itf,t„ 

'digitized by ^CK 

salt ckvstalluimj rwoa, OtTI [Mr. C A. rtmmw, 




VoL jcvii.— 23, 


r 7 S 


shovel, and marks off on the 
surface of the salt a series of 
parallel lines. This process 
enables the labourers to toss the 
lumps into uniform piles. A 
strict examination is made of 
every shovelful, iii order that 
impurities may be eliminated. 
Our illustrations show these coni- 
cal mounds of salt, and the 
transfer of the salt by means of 
barrels to large platforms, where 
the crystal product is thrown 
into huge pyramids, sometimes 
25ft. high. Here it remains, 
bleaching and solidifying for a 
year. It is, indeed, a picturesque 
sight to see these ghost - like 
pyramids grow in their might 
from day to day. 

Into the processes by which 
these massive mounds of hardened 
salt are crushed and distributed 
to the markets, we need not 
enter ; nor need we name the 
varieties of salt which are so 
distributed* We find something 
more interesting in turning from 
California to Central India, where 
in Rajputana a tremendous 
industry in salt is carried on, 
and where we may see the same 
little piles of salt that we have 
noted in the previous illustra- 

In the background of the 
1 arge f til I - page pi c t u re, vhich 
we have just passed, may be 
seen colossal heaps of salt, and 
in the foreground scores of men, 
women, and children wading in 
the vat of sluggish brine, from 
which, by dint of constant effort^ 
emerge the little cones of white. 
The overseers stand by to direct, 
and the scene is one of tremen- 
dous interest and activity, punc- 
tuated by babble of voices. We 
get a closer view of these cones 
in our last illustration, in which 
we find the coolies measuring 
the height of the cones. One 
thing we miss in these vistas of 
barren whiteness — the sigh t o f 
the labour saving machinery so 
noticeable in our early illustra- 
tions. Is it an object-lesson in 
the differences between Mast and 



A Peep into " Punch!" 

By J. Holt Schooling, 

[ The Proprietors &j ** Pumh " have given special per mt ssion to reproduce the at company ing illustrations, 
is the jit st occasion when a periodical has been enabled to present a selection from Mr. Punch 1 s famous A 

Part II. — 1850 to 1854. 


OME while ago, in the panto- 
mime " AH Baba and the 
Forty Thieves," AH Baba's 
brother, who had found his 
way into the secret cave, ran 
about in a most ludicrous 
manner eagerly picking from the floor 
diamonds, rubies, and emeralds us big as 
ostrich-eggs : as fast as he picked up another 

oun mi: ant ambassadors. 

AT ELY th* K^frttt 
mmrwrnt on [fac 
follj of txpta. 


I.;. 1 few .if lhr 

Am btittdon 

thlfll&*l¥*l'; who, 

by their ibvini 
from lh* srtnf* 
nf ttcttI f»*bi* 
■ 'f imparCBBM 

ihnui., lun p. tlT- 
twLljr ronfcued 
rliK tin-; uc 
"better a*w" 

▼hen irtjititng of 

ii htppeniiif We 
of course would 
n*l think tf «- 
CUhlglhrM hinb 

tnd il-;L:!--i. 1 hrd 

tenoni— thete 

" raeoib*n of the 
*tpal f-'i ; : ■■'•■' 
—of roLunttrilj 1 

tLittn lltEir 
or ioj KfT-« 

whaiet tr F til J wr rsn lhrrrfo-p noLf omrludi: 1br.|f felt Ihll fhitjf lliOuld 

"*k> more hem lt»Hi good"" in low di^kun«iw! ™**<ii4w— ■ or P»t»- 

Cieilie*, u the tus ni|' b* — hid l hey rem+ined it [Loir potli ivnag 
L« r umiH 1 if nVml. Tie E*.UL or WtmoilLiVI), We ATA laid bj 
Elie riHfi, hxi been IB LowJbn., M Lhr bfil innm nf prpmgtim; RriLiilj 
jutrniti et iSrrlJH ; while Lofrp P^TOisst— nji Um mtbc wilhont?— 
our Ambuiidor of YitiiflB. Lm bets wrung liia couairj hj itne&fe 
from tine ww **f hia dutMia. 

Out CLrrffc d'jifawi »t Bed-en — thfl «Jw i* a inrtd- h iJH--h*i been 
ilnyjnx at Naples., ljmI there Inn been other m*4uHn at our Jjyki- 
■tittf* Belief on lb* siriirhyDrpifTl,, bul ■Urilir. K prjnftipj^ th*i. 
thwit pud *erj Jiifchty to -present MagUfld it k tijreie.ii ■Uourt, they 
■n miKb heller *' unuitr^ it ibc rcgrp3n1LElfcu.11" * lira m,Lhipp of 
fartituW- urjpTir j or of uduihaLIt film! ibicreaL it )i*pp«uni:. I T id: is 
found thftt ftbtrnoe enhinee* (lit Taiut- tA Ambusadun, hiw -murk 
more eeoaonicti it would be U> keep tixm *lw*ii #w iT from Ibeir 

pnv.t— in UT^nqrinriit which would Ut\t the dodble idrtnLa^ "f 

V™ ini«h ehtBflcr u well (u, dwt? saliirjiciw7. Tbe tunl le one 
whieh *r linxp no dr.L.hit Mm CoenzK ruhli other fiurciiJ TeforfeKi* 
Pill h« ablpi |n iirfT >>p uri^n. It weeld be ■ rtHTOU- nJr^iliLon could 

the (mention ba poIt*J— L f ppmc «n™iiJ lv prT«n-fd ib the ibeewK of 

the dijiJwiifctisii fmrq their pwi*, *Ji*t would hit- a beet ike oosw 

qurrrt Karl LIip-j iHBuned *1 Lli'ir m'/iw.n "' 


gem he let one fall from his already loaded 
arms. I laughed at AH Baba's brother, but 
did not feel sympathetic. 

Now^ I do not laugh, and 1 do feel sym- 
pathetic with A. B. J s brother - for in choosing 
these pictures from Punch, one no sooner 
picks out a gem, with an ts I'll have you" 
than on the turn of a page a better picture 
comes, and the other has to be dropped. 
It goes as much against my grain to leave 
such a host of good things hidden in Pitmh 
as it went against the covetous desires of 

AH Baba's wicked brother to leave so many 
fine big gem* behind him in the richly -stored 
cave. However, Mr. Punch's whole store of 
riches is, after all, accessible to anyone whose 
Open Sesame ! is a little cheque, and so 
one has some consolation for being able 
to show here only a very small selection from 
Mr. Punch's famous gallery of wit and art 
which that discerning connoisseur has been 
collecting during the last sixty years. 

The year 1H50 was a notable one for 
Punch, for then John Tenniel joined the 
famous band of Punchites. His first contri- 
bution is shown in No. 1, the beautiful initial 
letter L with the accompanying sketch, 
which, although it is nearly fifty years old, 
and is here in a reduced size, yet distinctly 
shows even to the non-expert eye the touch 
of that same wonderful hand which 111 this 
week's Punch (November 26th, 1898) drew 
the cartoon showing Britannia and the 
United States as two blue- jackets in jovial 
comradeship under the sign of the "Two 
Cross Flags," with jolly old landlord Punch 
saying to them, "Fill up, my hearties! It 
looks like t dirty weather ' ahead, but you 
two -7 John and Johnathan — will see it 
through — together!" 

(Dancing at Nos. 2 and 3— Leech's sketch 
in No. 3 is, by the way, a truthfully graphic 
reminder to the writer of the first time 

''Cum IbY Sim! Tm'n bo ctu to m ajmnp; 





A C.^tl TiiliXUtS CIT* rr, tsn Ms SlMl'l IWrttiiieT is. tjut 4 rfcfcT Liitc f |H*nftx un u» lxt i ti tLfiU «,»;■ 
Hi II AI-WMT ft l&nitPfD TO D1*TI. 

J.— bV LEECH. 1650. 

he [un ex pec ting] heard and saw a strong 
Cornish cock-pheasant get up close at his 
feet — we come to No. 4, which 
represents the British Lion {as 
taxpayer) looking askance at the 
Prince of Wales, aged nine, on 
whose behalf application had 
just been made for the purchase 
of Marlborough House as a resi- 
dence for the Prince. The 
portly man in the picture on 
the wall is a former Prince of 
Wales, the Regent who became 
George IV. in 1820, and who 
is here seen walking by the 
Pavilion at Brighton, built in 
1784-87 as a residence for this 
Prince of A Vales. 

No, 5 is very funny, and it 
is one of the many Punch jokes 
which are periodically served up 
afresh in other periodicals. I 
have read this joke somewhere 
quite lately, although it came 
out in Punch nearly fifty years 

On this score, does anyone 
know if the following is a Punch 
joke? It was lately told to me 
as a new joke, but I was afraid 
to send it to Mr, Punch : - 

Two London street - Arabs. 
One is eating an apple, the 
other gazes enviously, and says, 
"OiVusahite, Bill/' "ShaVt," 
says the apple-eater, " (li'e us 
the tore, then, 1 ' entreats the 

g&in" to he no core t " stolidly 
replies the other, out of his 
stolidly munching jaws. 

The very clever drawing 
No. 6 is by Richard Doyle ; 
it was published in 1850, 
and at the close of that 
year Doyle left Punch 
owing to Punch's vigorous 
attack on w Popery " - the 
Popery scare got hold of 
the public mind in 1849, 
and for some while Punch 
published scathing cartoons 
against Roman Catholi- 
cism. I >oyle being of that 
faith resigned his position 
and a good income through 
purely conscientious mo- 
tives. Although Doyle left 
in 1850 his work was seen 
in Punch as lately as 1864, for when he re- 
signed some of his work was then unpublished. 

non apple-eater. 

There t 

7/1 1 


■ T*» *ur M* h'iom' Both, *mv nt Stjimm 5 !— Wgr. rw u u unus i Ui*» Kit 

s-fiT. [ 

-THE TKlSi ■ ay WAI 

ipki perron . : ■ .- 

- Qrtq i na l from 

H- WALK'S Ar At.fc MNL |iV LbJtCIl, 




This funny illustration of "A meeting to 
discuss the principles of Protection and Free 
Trade" was an outcome of the intensely 

Vttt £to4rM/T* (prffrffr), « Olf t COHDLTIOH* I HJllL KEEL GlEll! 

otu.iciKD to tou kjr io<i ^oi'lp proceed, iai I mi*- *i i f mi htm emt 

lit TUB. inUHBn |M I U irfLlip I 1B*LL PI TOO Li IE." 

&■** {iAwh**? J A* «WJ. "Go on, Jin i Jim* a in Olb c«ti 

t CCSllW 1Mb 4 i**ittJ*G LIKE i»r TUCBK ! ! ! " 

S.— A CLEAR CASI? OF L1AKL. 1851, 

bitter feeling between the partisans of both 
sides which marked tin- carrying-on by Lord 
John Russell of the system established by 
Sir Robert Feel in 1846 for throwing open our 
market-doors to tree trade with foreign nations. 

Qrttaria*. H li iulb HiIIEIM witbi*, *t bEfi * " 

BU.P " #CLF | 

7, — THE AFI'AkJTLO.S, iO-$<3, 

Aggression " made by Punch fifty years ago, 
No. 7 is one of the minor hits at * ( Fapal and it is irresistibly funny, 

Jilt r ifc 


U **wl*in4citjlh*H|*rli»f tb*PWiOEI wb(U| I or*t\! wUrtx*DtM.imnAcA(hMm!i*i li*i Ike PhAkIotu'i I nal.lhibtUff »v»»iHb>ftH icbMfl>^«H>p. P Kfci*JitoUfcE 

b^iii m difrrrEl- pjrU t.< (h E -wu»lTT, ttr knJ ul Frotitiio* »■! fiw lithi|Mi iMlupn^i] np pn.k.jj.1 I H|>l In Ifaii n tad pu* « Lbt ik^f, *> 1 hit, afltf timt tc i t nl , IW Hiph* M 
MB I1I > i 4 H tkfM mnUm u thi [nt.LrliDi nf ihe yiU», | jpftiT* r««)4 it 4tB4 4v4tfet. II lb THriHid l» h feftjAt [ PUfJrtJ*p«ja>»d "d gfan a frwa4f UW frtftfc* fni***. 

^pLhm of Ibe fdUc», I ipiTtiT4f4«}4ti 44E*fT^t>t. 1 T Ihr -p^i ii it ' r fc fi 'Trjhf [ IBHmii 

— r — /^i. \i^T^ • n ^T i g i narT 

ffilTl 1 





the world has pro- 
duced : — 

I lad the Ptipe nnl "aggressed" 
by appointing archbishops and 
bishops to English sees [This 
caused all ihe exaggerated 
pother and flu iter of 1849, — 
J. TI. S + ], and so raised the scare 
of which Lord John Russell and 
Mr, Punch really seem to have 
been the leaders, Doyle would 
not have resigned, and no open- 
ing would have been made for 
Ten inch 

Sir John, indeed h was by no 
means enamoured of Ihe pros- 
pect of Iseing a Punch artist, 
when Mark Lemon [ihe editor 
in 1850.— J. H. S.] made his 
overtures lo him. He was rather 
indignant than otherwise, as his 
line was high art, and his severe 
drawing above "fooling,* 1 "Do 
they suppose/* he asked h friend, 
44 that there is anything funny 
about mcf" He mcanl t of 
course, in his art, for privately 
he was well recognised as a 
humorist ; and little did he 
know, in the moment of hesita- 
tion before he accepted the 
offer, I hat he was struggling 
against a kindly destiny. 

Thus we may say that 
the " Popish Scare" of fifty 
years ago was a main cause 
of the Tenntel cartoons in 
the Punch of to-day* 

The picture in No. 9, 

Sir John Ten- 
niePs first cartoon 
is shown in No. 8, 
It represents Lord 
John Russell as 
David, backed by 
Mr. Punch and by 
John Bull, attack- 
ing Cardinal Wise- 
man as Goliath, 
who is at the head 
of a host of Roman 
Catholic arch- 
bishops and 
bishops, A very 
interesting men- 
tion is made by 
Mr. Spiulmann, in 
his " History of 
Punch," of the cir- 
cumstances which 
caused Tenniel to 
join Punch, and 
to heroine the 
greatest cartoonist 




bv lbbch, is^Driginal from 





" The New Siamese Twins,'' 
celebrates the successful 
laying of the submarine 
cable between Dover and 
Calais, November 13, 1851 : 
the closing prices of the 
Paris Bourse were known 
within business hours t»f the 
same day on the Ixjndon 
Stock Exchange. The use 
by Leech of the words in 
the title, "Siamese Twins, 1 ' 
refers to the visit to this 
country of a Bamum-Iike 
na t u ml mo n s t ros i ty — a 
pair of twins whose bodies 
were joined — a freak that 



T*k*n on lb* flpot (A, the Bppt bj our awn irtiiL 

(Wfaq briv nitsnlir rttber ■ mrraoM mn, nnftaa ih»t Ibe 
|*ttili*nt; of fan pmiLioB certain |t J.rf mtka him f«l ■ klLtfe iT^It: 
iad h ookmr *i hi lielch, *t ibink nr mderi wLU not be dubuLiraJ 

to beLifTc him.) 

/VwA secured another of its most famous 
artists Charles Keene whose first contri- 
bution is shown in No. 10. 

This sketch has little of a joke in it the 


was also the origin of a toy sold in later 
years with the same title. In the year 1851 




/utp/>, iff. L * JIap ™ * Site,. Jm ■ ■■ 
ft*«jv r a# s. p y w Tfrr^-J, awn ringi fUn l^t 


r 1. 

— UV !.HU 


shakiness of drawing is inten- 
lionu.1 [.sue the description i^iven 
in No. to], and the following 
account of this poor little pic- 
ture, so interesting as the first 
by Keene, is given by Mr. (1. 
S, I-ayard in his '* Life and 
Letters of Charles Samuel 
Keene " : 

hi 1S48, Louis Napoleon had 1>een 
. I . . 1 1 ] to the trench ^resiliency . . . ; 
rSjrj witnessed ihe commencement of 
those vif i] t *nt political struggles which 
were the forerunners of internal con- 
spiracies : and [851 saw this practical 
anarchy suddenly ptii a slop to by the 
famous, c»r infamous, tottp diiat of 
December 2nd* 

be end of I hat month a 
bearing the 

UHlVERSmPffiftlSXlf 111 



-t'llERU iJESlGS, 

legend w Sketch of 
the Patent Street- 
sweeping Machines 
lately introduced at 
I'aris " appeared on 
p- 264 of ** Mr. 
['iinclvs' 1 journal. It 
represented a couple 
of cannon drawn with 
the waviest of out- 
lines, and the letter 
(( A" marked upon 
the ground di recti) 1 
in their line of fire 
[see No. 10,— J. H. 
S.] v ■ ■ ■ 

This was the first 
a ppea ranee of K ec ne's 
pencil in the pages 
which he was des- 
tined to adorn with 
increasing frequency 
as time went on for 
nearly forty years. 
The sketch is un- 
signed. Indeed, it 
was only at the urgent 
request of his friend, 
Mr. Silver, in whose 
brain the notion had 
originated, that the 
drawing was made, 
the artist bluntly ex- 
pressing his opinion 
that the juke was a 
mighty poor one* 

Pictures 1 1 to 
13 bring us to 
No. 1 4^ which 
contains small fac- 
simile reproduc- 
tions of the six 
designs on the 
front of the AnA 
wrapper, which 
preceded the well- 
known design by 
Richard Doyle, 
now used every 
week. These little 
pictures have 
been made direct 
from the original 
Punch - wrappers 
in my possession, 
as it was found 
impossible to gel 
satisfactory prints 
in so small a size 
as these from the 
much larger 
blocks that 
Messrs, Cassell 
and Company 



en thi 





I |; ,,| ,,l ll , HAT*." 5 1 -^ '■ I Ml M\ M .^1;- V><-< 

byvn.w- s ^ UN|VEF 





very kindly lent to me, 
impressions from which 
can Ix: seen by readers 
who may like to study 
the detail of these de- 
signs in Mr. Spiel mann's 
" History of Punch," 
which contains a full 
account of them. Inci- 
dentally, it is interesting 
to note that when these 
designs were made it 
would have been im- 
possible to obtain from 
them the excellent re- 
duced facsimiles now 
shown, which, by the 
way, have only now been 
obtained after several 
attempts — as each of 
these pretty little pic- 
tures has been reduced 
from the full size of the 
ordinary Punch-page. 

The first design was 
made in 1841 by A. S. Henning, Mr. Punch's 
first cartoonist. In the early years of Punch 
the design for the wrapper was chunked for 
each half-yearly volume, and early in 1842 
the second design was 
adopted : this was drawn 
by Hablot K, Browne 
(" Phiz ,s ), who worked for 
Punch during 1842- 1844, 
leaving Punch in 1844, 
because the paper could 
not at that time stand the 
financial strain of the two 
big guns, Leech and 
"Fhk M H. K. Browne- 
went back to Mr, Punch 
in later years, and Mr. 
Spielmann has recorded 
that this " brave worker, 
who would not admit his 
stroke of paralysis, but 
called it rheumatism, could 
still draw when the pencil 
was tied to his fingers and 
answered the swaying of 
his body;' 

The third wrapper is hv 
William Harvey, and was 
used for Vol. III. of Punch 
in the latter part of 1842, 
The artist u spread con- 
sternation in the office by 
sending in a charge of 
twelve guineas ?1 for this 

Vol, *vii— 24, 


Xumttr Tvm. "Hiti * Wt«e, Sii/t! r 

Amy "A *HtT I Si\ I N 

*«r JW ■ A Wup 1— A Cm**, ftm ih*. w 

&**'r*. * r«Tii*L1 Mrt, Sib. [ *n*m iKQirP ii « 

M**v JW. "A* I nm | WOTLnTf Lkim raV tn Mi 

T5. — HV LEECH. 1B5?. 


of the drum 
latter part of 1843. 


't Aft, iHttmUt f\ Utl. 

Pll tuitia CUH prf HSl* fall C0«ipJiHi*flti to Mt Pmmci t xr, I, m 

* ulHuj 1Mb. brr* !■»> afFet ■ rtm« k » h cii nuj be wi u j id pi c»ea« ibje 
ipi*ck iJl* diwuiurvn no the i«tt of cmlum*. Ttwro b*ffl beta, l-ittlj. 

• ■ . ■* ' -1 •!•-■{ ate'jrH pmjjMpK doer bjf lE-fl W»m«(Wr BWfrtl TttpSGLill* 

ihr l*rnr bur e*pt *wn fr nmnidrfri, ciltuklcd to brum Thil wl of 
t!»cir i*aifam kb> ridwtal* vJ dmua. Prrbijs* n*iih*r Hz-. JW4, 
n*r *n ervlwbieiMHi Bntufa pnbLr, ttt inn tint (be arttck la ■mrtiBii 
iMpTMUl Is 6* 4»e. at tfat m«L furaulkble UfiUt Ifcit OU ixmj cgppLojt 
La ilriif (*itw in ibe naU of m EHfrnj. Scl to tAk« ap Uge miica of 
Jfr. f *#"*'j ip*w '.win-h p farlbe-Hjr, Sji C. C. du.j U pardoned for 

■iffttb* w*up-«l more *npfnrni.Le3r 1&*S1 hy Lb« dimtlittl 

' Mr F c*» boo* notimwJ lb« Tut ii. 

EtrilkELpJn lkl( 

of qaULMMi WTIITlrti Wblth. 

LhmL tb« c*p* of tba thrvMAicn. upon . tta uhV 

Chmrui ihirLJi If* plrnted Ttll Dtdmu f*HM, WBffl de-ifu*J to 

il«riB. roofiucud puilr** d** teTorti of Lbfl ft» - ud. »bea .b+r. i»*iifi 

B 14H UwJL» U> AlOH filBtilV. 6*rh m*a of the |FtLllfil Grra vtien fili-TW 
fail ap 01 tte BHBt of bit Vjofir L ud ib&uli BO ! al lm lap- nf hif 

na^ Uw puic iti»j be mart tKilj iiuxin^d. Ui*n dr^nbrij $ i ■ C 
CuiK tai^fc* tbai t«n t Kw*p*p*r p;tumgil ndnui Llui it ii am 
■ucb 1, wrr iiekm ipftetidmgf . »ftn iH 

third wrapper - twelve 
guineas being, by the 
way, nearly one-half of 
the total capital with 
which Punch was started 
in 1841. 

The fourth wrapper 
was designed by Sir 
John Gil her t, w hose 
work for Punch, although 
greatly intermittent, and 
small in quantity, was 
spread over a longer 
period than that of any 
other Punch artist — save 
Sir John TennieL This 
wrapper covered the first 
part of 1843, and it was 
used until recent years 
as the pink cover of 
Punch $ monthly parts. 

The fifth wrapper is 
by Kenny Meadows— 
you can just see his 
signature on the lower 
and it was used in the 
Then, in January, 1 844, 
Richard Doyle, Mr. Punch's latest recruit, 
was employed to design the new wrapper - 
the sixth, of our illustra- 
tion No. 14, This design 
was used until January, 
1849, and then Doyle 
made the alterations which 
distinguish this sixth wrap- 
per from the one now in 
use and whirh has been 
used ever since, 

A little boy*s advice to 
his grandfather is illus- 
trated hy Leech in No. 15, 
and No, 16 suggests an 
added horror of war. The 
humorous prospectus in 
No, 17 concludes with 
the words :— 

Something uims up every day 
to justify llie most sanguine ex- 
pectation I hat an Kl Dorado 
has really lieen discovered. In 
the mean 1 hue, the mono of the 
CcMnpajn is "Gtium Sine 
I^ig-" [£&w ?vithoitt dignity]. 
Applications for Shares 10 be 
made immediately to the above 
Addrcsse&i as a preference will 
l>e shown to res peel al tie people. 

By the way, when Mr* 
Punch wrote this skit 
about "(lold in England," 

fl<IT4llv 5*111.1'* nil TBI BlITUIH GtENlDIKt. 

*-«v. GiteqinalfrfeSh-i and his public were 


TKKlllKV rue, FNE-J 


1 86 




Conducted « tko OeHnDTich-U'Tflq^aii Ftiiieip:*, ii 
4,000,000 Bbara, of 5* e«L 

ffo Ud&turr to sujr&uoldsiis. 


?X, *** r. •/ * C— **« «W ^ |^J-4iJi f» ■ .frw <*#rt ™* milt h 
■MM*. j» rammntt t*mt 0/ r*f aia* iff***,*" CafXaiai re Iftt fa# Jfaeaial 
fit VSR W **"*" * '™* * ^ **' T"l ^H^*»' 

rfanrf^ 4 /™ CJ-wsr— tart -fa» «■«***■ (* &*■" **^" *■**•*■#' 

l» .tf jKmmf I* AMMtrmtit, tut ai «*■ « ** rtfwflW, 4+1 *«* **F *c 

JiiJkrf. kifttr t*t «_ i «m» nndnttf ** f»f*eJ«rf , mJ *■$■/« lajenaai 

b jAj iwnrr-iijf*/ «n-jfi-tf eea *$ fa i'mttnt. 

CfafdHi ff lit**"!*. Diwi "»*** •* "*■ ^* u * 1 "•"■ **■ **' ** 

DincBi-cozncAoB ch a usees* cvrr, 


stricken, anticipation by the amateur clown, pantaloon, 
and columbine of the exact result that will follow the 
application of the (real) red -hot poker to the old 


Fdt Lui hu Low b»n fclt to be * 


AlWTEw it* -«i ie .b- *be pbee tbvfde 

Tn I RTEfct •*««* of Gold 
•ttttiil imL It it th# otywt 

**Tbai Gdd nut* i. lim qiulilire *£**!»£ " * ■«■* tern™ 
doubt. The ordf diftmlij r* I* taow wber* to Sad iL Tit Omfion 
cf ib.i Cwpiii/pWip! ibeneeh« wrt to ml Lill l4?j b****«ert*jiwd 

^SkVubbOUf *M Ion* H-rfr-d 1ft FriainM Hdl m t^M ■ h»k j dj 
Udn fM ii i, Tim «nl> *iradi:r ii. Lhfct Itve mi h bu »r,i W ^or ke*l 
b^m,, Il^iti hire been (aund litre of tie ncfawl dwcnptna. 

■WMM K ««if|fefd wit Ihi ^bM t * lOTereiKB, Tbi* fKt vrm, 

ui «ilb k Little w*rei. ■»} be fdu*il ib"T *«*!»- ,....■ 

tWtf l! i Etner^KhK BflnJvnigr ui ibi miurt w ttJBT F »*.F^ 
■IJdb pwedt* tlTOB* indirJUwei "" purls, TmOB tflnpwJ pV!! 
lbt brim rodi «T ?[»», «J P»"r al frMUMol* ol ojf«* r--l«llij« U 
i> u ieWliblt lew in ciluit lb*t ^^frtier pipe* *nd ojite™ pftMiad, 
thiTri • rieb ia*iirt^irb«d. lor Quyle. 

Um-r-lni. ib*t oeJj TTgur^ to 1* hrr.Ve- flp« io rtL.mj»b obi erei 
■ iia iii loTHrtttnlw e*wri of vnMb. 

Tie trut lowLitJ oE "To* Tjdblm'b Gi*uod b« B*»*r befo 
urf t rwnid jEl, I c »tli bo* be rirant* ^ L'i i m rap* 13 UL ibould t un oui 

to be tbr r«l»d ia fdUtHMi wl Em I he thot^ f^^tbifB U Ibe btil 
ITQUBd far beliEtilff S M J*: »t htfi bttl -■iLiBf Mtt !■!«* 

Tilbnut kTwwuff it. Tfc«e bia been e, fflituae Ijipit »t L»d« * d«e^ 
%*& Tor KBrrvtiou »e Jwt* hteodoini flfltliMii but keck m *«t. ' M 
Hrrenl'i UmJ, tt lb* foot ^ Pn»rwc llitl p tu tha b* i ITntDlw* 
tipt le *C(uiJl]r maau|| "itJi iltHUM ilf UaJd h -eJail «o do no* eTiH ft*a 

* Wt^biil S F hiS*id tno«b ko jmntiM thm iiUold Sn P^ctawl. 
tad pWbLt »f il. In • r« d»i» wr elhlL be Tr«d r te r«LiMt« cp^rt- 
Hwn» »if ie lb* DetPti-ifr the L>ii«tott »<He wilb p«d* Uh »tl*P'i<™ 
ot tit public t* lb? rolhnnn? t«ai ob it* credoJitr;^ 

BW ■■ ■■ !!■ H BWl^l™. 'TWfH lrt*e». w«rLinvf «r Priciw** Hill, bnwuBT, «"*T ■J*"* g ™ 
B4UHJB^ip(rTnrl*lKHIl of il* ifltoriul TitmuKI . qqrwellilOi: lnrm ■' ■_ 

An4 far*M*-lnPe of ilnl*' *"* LtdMMft cfa»f 

Hje CMH **«p «»• ™ b««jd llfet M'er «iU ba beiid G 

Cctvli bin ■ W-ir e*cr»« far «f* 1— . 

Ctbrtrfi peiiLie rwH *fc*eT»- 

Will bwp ka fta^wd | i in u mwb: ihfa 


TrUblTiii « Oi- p.rt P Th — -d tkut 

Hm (ounliif mf mi mi iL «**f«P . 
hearf— rftH*k*lfclr"J*"**M i r '- r 
For tW ■ bba W ebieb l «-id bo- *e*» 

OofeMkl Hi of udeei H b» h —L Irtilllld- 

11 ii tbt4 ejl Ue bh «h-J- elm 

Ditt i Be miidie p ^erdor eAfat k^ _ _. . 
ffiU ikm VM rttawte, Bfld bevieed ■ 

U* rolLvnd ^*W* Mu pouled ; r«bt 

UlHui *Ul enfbd inif fctfOM km pii. 
Tbt **»i» • TTJltTi. er lie awpJi i «n4 ; 

fit litTboW^ teW bmtTEi «d be lei 

Jlaed h ft Hade ie Uarptttd Beede net bm, 
Aftd, iMtiii, hui I of anrtJMj. u «ae 
Wboee lik km deedk rilb Ham Uuuji Li ba An*, 

Met viii m riifi af ibaifbt, ht diep ^ unktii\r i 

C^HSf leal [area vbal ta aiaamlT a* faaaa- 
He BrteV a*4 Hk«d H br% bet visa narparl petbRW, 

iH 9f paaaaa,at Itet, eaeH lm BMt|tt, 
Bet b*4 npilrt *kwa atarwe : eoJ «1 but* 
Teal HUB Pin III lill bad rU wAaaai ii» r 

Thai Pflft ift e'e ll atee IH fraot apoa Lu bcie« < 

TW iftaereaUk tti anaaat of bit taut* 
Waft Ipmo ftf t aeaar a ie ■UflmMe, io 2j» 
fa aHe-albj *** qeiUhMf i >>r m iy : 

Tee Iftf ef ifa -fU; fttnulfw 
HavSh leeetta Wm ™ : *bo but Ih« 
tea iben, »PV» rraeia. lae tH ol ' petltai W.M, 

lb tatfabMb. Uh lifer reared btfare 

Up»tiM.r-Wfllb* ba« huleedef Tear*. 


WUlakftD fa BDeoaai irub bit Tier* 



i Irae laebik— 4ft»» ta tb* b«rt'» rart ; 
— - batlith bo4b: 

H_hif Tf H^ w ead kn* rta wil* fiii fie-lb, 
Till «e in «fav in Lhnk (Lu be ou Ik ae ant. 


VwiaT el TreJeApw ; bt Nei* 
VeuJPvTQN't aibae iJJr aa* eMdi. 

Gnat rapuift *iMi brvt ! HbiI I* tbev wd fart«D r 


alike unaware 
that gold is 
really in this 
country — gold 
ore worth 
^15,000 was 
dug up in 1894 
out of this 
country : 1894 
being the most 
recent year for 
which I have 
the official re- 
turn of mining. 
No. nS de- 
picts a moment 
of half-delight^ 
ful, half- awe- 




No, 19 is 
Mr. Punch's 
tribute to 
the Duke of 
w h i c h , a 
week later 
znd> 1852), 
was followed 
by a cartoon 
by Tenniel 
containing in 



Uaat faf eiHJ y*»t*r T*W did >l if S«"n . Prt-ia-BiMir-Piit jea veal 
Be ?iih J*a u« b, g^ud Pi^r ■ 




a mournful 
pose one of 
T ennie V 3 s 
splendid Brit- 
ish lions that 
have intermit- 
tently during 
so many years 
been a promi- 
nent feature of 
his cartoons. 

No. 20 is by 
u Cm h bert 
Bede n [the 
Reverend Ed- 
ward Bradley], 
the author of 

,lj |^t Ju w— 01. E™r Irt^— 

1853* Original from 






"Verdant Green," and this is one of four cari- 
cature illustrations of the then novel art of 
photography, which Mr. Bradley did for 
Punch in the year 1853, We read just now 
how we are indirectly indebted to a Pope 
[Pi uk IX.] for .Sir John Tenniel's cartoons* 
and in connection with the Rev, Edward 
Bradley s picture in No. 20, it may be noted 
that six clergymen, at the least, have contri- 
buted to Mr. Punch's pages. 

No, 2 1 shows 
Punch's " Medal 
for a Peace Assur- 
ance Society," a 
pictoriatization in 
1853 of the still 
true old saying : 
" To secure peace 
be prepared for 
war," An unhappy 
necessity, as some 
people think, but 
without doubt the 
only practical way 
to assure peace, 
and, as usual, Mr. 
Punch puts the 
thing in a nut- 
shell with his two 
mottoes on the 
medal : " Atten- 
tion" and "Ready, 
aye Ready/' Our 
" attention " and 
"readiness" of 
1853 did not, 

however, keep us out of the Crimean 
War, which began in the spring of 1854, 
despite the efforts of the Peace Society and 
of John Bright, who are caricatured in 
No. 22. But modern authorities generally 
believe that the Crimean War might have 
been prevented by a more vigorous policy 
than that of Lord Aberdeen, whose Adminis- 
tration is chiefly remembered by what is now 
thought to have been a gross blunder. This 

■^.-MK. I'UNOtV Ml! Al JOHN BKKJHl AUG THE '•'M.CK ^vli.LV. ic-^ 

by ^ GO QIC 




1 ■■■■«§ 


v ^j; ^PW^S^jSJ 


■ w QT w M Tiin Wimrixi>i Vt ni HNirutuj n u mi It tm'll 

cum Ai*j» o" m* *w "ix nut "xm a khd ceil uit»." 

words was the funny "Improvement * of the 
Royal Arms depicted in No. 22. 

With a glance of sympathy at the belated 
traveller in No. 23, we pass to No, 24, which 
shows the " Bursting of the Russian Bubble," 


No, 22 is also interesting as a forerunner of 
Mr, E. T, Reed's remarkably witty modern 
designs, " Ready-made coats (of-arms) ; or, 
giving 'em fits/ 1 

" I wish the British Lion w*ere dead out- 
right," said John Bright, at Edinburgh, in 
1853, and Mr. Punch's comment on these 


Q14 Lady (who m BcH tuwd tr> ihtm new fuig]*d nolicnu). ■" Oft, Mr f 

Flf**r, Mr f dan't, .Sir/ thn'tfvr jhwkJmh' mtXe fire, tiirf" 

.4.— A KKFEKKMrK T« THKrCWMKAN WAK. j i» l.KI.CH, it! 

Digitized by Vj< 

0Y "CUTHRJ£HT BliOE," 1B53. 

This was published in Punch, 
October 14th, 1854, after the 
Battle of the Alma had been 
fought and badly lost by Russia 
and part of the Russian fleet 
sunk at Sebastopol. Leech 
here shows very graphically the 
shattering of the H irresistible 
power " and of the " unlimited 
means " which were to have 
led the Emperor Nicholas I, of 
Russia to an easy victory over the 
British and French allied forces. 

No. 25 is another of the 
caricatures of photography in 
its early days by * 4 Cuthbert 
Bede," and very funny it is. 

The next picture, No. 26, is 
one of Ptmdis classics. It is 
that well-known joke illustrat- 
ing manners in the mining 
districts in the early fifties :— 

First Poiil? Kafir?: " WJin's 'im, 


Sitond ditto : "A stranger ! * 

First ditto: " 'Eave Vtff a brick at 'im. " 

By the way, speaking of Mr. 
Bunchs jokes which have be- 
come classic, the one which is the 
best known is the following : 

Worthy of Attention. 
AiIvjcl 1 lo persons ntwmt lo marry— 




This famous mot appeared in Punch's 
Almanac for 1845, and Mr. Spielrnann states 
that it was il based upon the ingenious wording 


AnW dtitw. " M ttw*u<.wm I " 

96, MINIIKS' MAN.NKHS. 1-54- 

of an advertisement widely put forth by 
Eamonson & Co,, well-known house fur- 
nishers of the day," 

As regards the source of this famous joke, 
Mr, Spiel rnann, with characteristic thorough- 
ness, gives a long account of the many 
claims to its paternity* and finally makes 
this statement : — 

* . . . chance has placed in my possession ihe 
authoritative information ; and so far from any outsider, 

FOGfJY MdliMNft, 

tn M'» A tiirtJU iittitu I ' 


(Fr*m 0$ Sow! * £t A^4ny) 

ISCTJtttT do Vt *DQ(ETllula1» 
oar reefer, « tbe eainn 
<Lilm* nod uu#T7 in wJucb 
tbc >;&srli*h irt inrolTfld by 
™™ ** li* iBfftow *m 
■ hjdi (bey hit* dind h> 
*j*t vii&it our fctifi^l 
Lord fend Muter. J« icho- 
l*i. ITt liATfl tb* bippi< 
mw to HiaiifF lb* lubjoctt 

Of His ]jirrp;ti. MiJim 
lht.1 tkgntt ■!Ct«l M.|f4ld*re 
vf la I lULe rtf ibtolfele 
•timlao*. The ptic* of 
la-rml bu ilKnued tfi i 
i-itm wkwii |4*fn Lt byroad 

lb* BUM Of fell elfeWi b*t 

the mo*t optletl nf tlrt 
poWiti : fe»d Um mrihr 

Of fell 0*Vt pTDTHUHMfe ■ 

eqitillj tewm. Mtum- 

eiinm m * kwui 

fepa«f r Md ftuity iHriudj 

feTA denumlcd for n, j-pnt 

fll m«tt by the fe* hul^oi 

*ho miuit hk k«P Ibar fbop owa. TVere u tmc a c*C to be teen ; 

■■d cmrXMBf tcu be OElen tp be nu *od miw if tbcre *err tny ■ 

tbmc far Ibe nice iad nil to Ml : ml if thooa »™in b*d irt fed 

Wri il rf rf fafeW*. MfefeOffM K«' r....L t*-rli ewrfjt. Mil *pplicd Id 

lb* hik pwpoar u lb* titi TV drum ■4»o *i**e djHppetred fmn 
ibe Amti, tnd. eras Fro* ibe ketuxb of iba *r»loet*fy ibn fun* 
.-1*1 on kcMipr bf buiud f«f Fund, feisd lIujb mill bmra of Khfr 
(0 btbfed, or fe fetuH^f 
Owisf to liK ukiipdHition of It* Mtll Tu, Lb« Mak^tiHi or Wcrt- 

HI)H*rtfe Kad Hu^vw >UiTHCILU irr Llir <udj pemu ia ||h! «rtUilXT 

bmdja Ibe Qutveh feed i'r-ifti i Au»t, vbo eii» fcffurJ bprr md 
mmeqanLl^ til lb* r*b driTre* uid nMJ*bip|iert itb in i. litre bofder- 
jHg- nn m,i|L WHiLrbw'> *iA miagn*! wt MJipeure c*eh ; TDikl 
tli rmeB, vbci lKu line Lut je»r were rcLliBfia »'eJib. m»x rjov h 
•^efi firdtiBf LQ tir I -it? rui»er> fi-r a baqe. Tbr fn bide* Hwtod 
ban; Wi enlirdj dpTfn»rrd ; P0 lb*f bvcKt «od iboefl in tfiA p«n 
^finbLc,. iwJ lbs popnlfeUon » Rouf bferaf^TL Tbc auhi yUtetamA 

fepplJEi. lb tfeUo* : irA^fbui'li l!ual IV 3i«-iti:LlT'n halU «rn liluir.iiuEHl-'hp 

ruibJiEbti. ind n<U wrtd pol«b brinjr eqo*ilj drfli-wwU timr h bo» 
■ terrible tdckdldy in the pmiikr ..i-luijj. h liow fe» joauit far ioaa * ™ 

Sacb il Ifae Vfedt «f bennp, tW C^LChJirr, Ibe eteCaLuiieF, U rrdijrfdj 

10 Ibr empJnyniml nf bij-rmpc*, m& LJur dtuwtb *tf pp|«f n pi nlrejie 
1 bil not i ifeir cm the bori Hy no IjIm, but «* omo*od»tinr, TtkJJs cuukot 
»af Innprrj- be iLrfeVft, fi>r !ii?k of niftlenfeL fJir, It liu brtn fo*a4 
H«>HblCi for the mj&' reason, ta mirrj juto effect llw umif of baJt 
not**, by wb»rb il n id coolewplfet*™ to c^labliHn u. ferlifeul 

rumDrr f<ir paprt in I'^cbnd » HW BOTl Tumble tbfett tfJkL ll d 
nbrKHh' 1hfc1 Ibe fiwi*^ of iba irib-ilh^rd tiMtnL owt be w- 
Uined a-.bfli ]niwt 1»j (be Unlwb wfidfU io1be wvstiflKvi w 

reflect (in The fTthiTin* c-r rijin»Lui« lbl( th-rf in Mibaiaiisf otq oJll 
■od. begLDJUBf Iq thai wigij^Jy abutii r*tj D j iL^tf bfeb«er 


anonymous or iLcliin 1, p;tid <>r unpaid, liein^ con- 
cerned in it at all, the line simply came in the ordinary 
way from one of the Staff-- from the mati who, wiLh 
Lan dells, had conceived Punch and shaped it from 
ihe Ijeginning, and had invented that firsL Almanac 
which had saved the paper's life —Henry Mayhew. 

No. 27 is a very clever drawing by Leech — 
they are all clever of course, but this seems 


MM^mArA Jtej (i* Qhp 1 i ftwlw), " I t*r. Co*c*t. mil ' 



G H o'5gt^ B5J 

Origmd*fro>r»T-Ai«AH ok i» h . 



specially good. The youth [on 
Westminster Bridge -time, two 
on a foggy morning] white with 
fear walks on perfectly straight 
without taking any notice of the 
rough who asks : " Did you want 
to buy a good razor ? "—but he 
is taking a lot of notice though, 
The youth walks exactly like one 
dors vvalk when a beggar pesters 
as he slouches alongside just 
behind one, but here the fright- 
ened youth has good cause 
indeed for the shaking fear that 
Leech has by some magic pat 
into these strokes of his pencil 
The " Reduced Tradesman " 

too is exactly good but let 

the picture speak for itself, it 
wants no words of mine* 

3r*4 JWj tte?.). ^DtAM 1 &**■! »■*»' Tiltl t*» IMS. 
BvrtiD Doc a*rr wvt tot' 1 

31. — BY LEECH, 1854. 

[iVme verus, m the hat tit generaity, prtetdt the i/'ttes behm\ which 
refer id th* th&rge t*f the Light Brigade ^ itfuiir&ttd by Leech, in A r e. 32. 
-J. U.S.) 

But who is there, with patient tongue the norry tale to tell, 

He** our I.ifllit Itri^ule. true martyrs hi t lit- jniiiil of tn-rnmr. fell '. 

" 'Twas sublime, but 'twas not warfare," that charge of woe and wrack. 

That led sis hundred lo the Runs, and brought |h» hundred back ! 

Enough ! the order came to charge, and charge ihey did -like men : 
While shot arid shell and rifle ball played on l hem down l he fflen. 
Though ihirty riuis were ranged in front, not one drew haled breath, 
Unfaltering, mi^iu^iuminn, they rc*1t upon their death \ 

Nor by five times their number of all arms could they be stayed ; 
And with two lives for one of ours, e'cn*thcn n the Russians paid ; 
Till torn whb shot *nd rem wiib shell, :■ spent and hi red hip few,— 
Life was. against those fearful odds h — from the grapple they withdrew. 

But still like wounded lions, their faces tn trie fee, 

More conquerors than conquered, they fell hack stern and slow ; 

With dinted arms and weary sieeds ull bruised and s^ilr-d a tut worn — 

Is ibis the wreck of all thai rode so Lravely out this morn f 

Where thirty answered muster at dawn now answer ten, 

Oh, wor's me fur *iitb officers ! Oh h woe's me for such men ] 

Whose wast the blame? Name not hU name, but rather seek to hide. 
If he live, leave him to conscience— lo God, if he have died : 
But you, true kind of heroes, you have done your duly well : 
Your country asks not, to what end ; it knows but how you fell ! 

30. — OUT OF TBI RAIN, 1854. 

There is an amusing " Rus- 
sian " account, in No, 28, of our 
troubles at home during the 
Crimean War ; and No. 29 
shows a street-Arab asking the 
Queen's coachman, M I say, 
Conchy, are you engaged ? " 

Glancing at Nos. 50 and 31, 
we see in No. 32 leech's picture 
of the heroic charge at the 
Battle of Balaclava, on October 
25, 1854, with Lord Cardigan 
leading his famous Light Bri- 
gade of Cavalry. Here are 
Mr. Punch's lines on this gallant 
charge, which was subsequently 
hmnortali/ul by Tennyson in 
his u Charge of the Light 
Brigade " : — 

Note,- In Part 1. of this article, the *' Portrait of the Railway Panic," 
illustration No, 17, was ermncoudy ascribed to Doyle ; the artist was 
William Newman, one of Mr+ Punch's, first recruits. 


G{To fie continued.) , 

rV A tl L Original from 


Miss Cayleys Adventures, 


By Grant Allen. 

S Lady Georgina at home ? " 
The discreet man-servant 
in sober black clothes eyed 
me suspiciously. " No T miss/ ? 
he answered, "That is to 
say — no, ma'am- Her lady- 
ship is still at Mr* Marmaduke Ashurst's — 
the late Mr, Marmaduke Ashurst's, I mean 
— in Park Lane North, You know the 
number, ma'am ? " 

u Yes, I know it," I replied, with a gasp ; 
for this was indeed a triumph. My one 
fear had been lest Lord South minster should 
already have taken possession —why, you will 
sec hereafter ; and it relieved me to learn 
that Lady Georgina was still at hand to guard 
my husband's interests. She had been living 
at the house, practically, since her brother's 
death. I drove round with all speed, and 
flung myself into my dear old lady's arms. 

She kissed me on both cheeks with un- 
wonted tenderness, " Lois," she cried, with 
tears in her eyes, u you're a brick ! " It was 
not exactly poetical at such a moment, but 
from her it meant more than much gushing 

81 And you're here in possession ! " I 

The Cantankerous Old Lady nodded. She 
was in her element, I must admit. She 
dearly loved a row — above all, a family row ; 
hut to be in the thick of a family row, and 
to feel herself in the right, with the law 
against her — that was joy such as Lady 
Georgina had seldom before experienced, 
"Yes, dear," she hurst out volubly, " I'm in 
possession, thank Heaven. And what's more, 
they won't oust me without a legal process. 
Fve been here, off and on, you know, ever 
since poor dear Manny died, looking after 


" Kiss me," I cried, flushed. " I am your 
niece ! n But she knew it already, for our 
movements had been fully reported by this 
time (with picturesque additions) in the 
morning papers, Imagination, ill-developed 
in the English race, seems to con cunt rate 
itself in the lower order of journalists. 

Digitized by C.OOQ I C 

things for Harold ; and I shall look after 
them still, till Bertie Southminster succeeds 
in ejecting me, which won't be easy. Oh, 
I've held the fort by main force, I can tell 
you ; held it like a Trojan. Bertie's in a 
precious great hurry to move in> I can 
see; but I .-won't, allow him. He's been 


i 9 4 


will to take it back to Mr. Ashurst. He 
called far it, no doubt, hoping to open the 
packet before he delivered it and make a 
copy of the document for this very purpose. 
But I refused to let him have it. Before he 
saw me T however, he had been left by him- 
self for ten minutes in the office ; for I 
remember coming out to him and finding 
him there alone : and during that ten minutes, 
being what he is, you may be sure he fished 
out the rough draft and appropriated it ! " 

"That is more than likely," my solicitor 
nodded. " You are tracking him to his lair. 
We shall have him in our power," 

in his plans ; hut who would marry such a 
piece of moist clay ? Besides, I could never 
have taken anyone but Harold," Then 
another clue came home to me. " Mr, 
Hayes," I cried, jumping at it T " Higginson, 
who forged this will, never saw the real 
document itself at all ; he saw only the draft : 
for Mr. Ashurst altered one word viva voce in 
the original at the last moment, and I made 
a pencil note of it on my cuff at the time : 
and see, it isn't here, though I inserted it in 
the final clean copy q[ the will— the word 
* especially.' It grows upon me more and 
more each minute that the real instrument is 


I grew more and more excited as the whole 
cunning plot unravelled itself mentally step 
by step before me. " He must then have 
gone to Lord South minster," I went on, 
"and told him of the legacy he expected 
from Mr. Ashurst. Tt was five hundred pounds 
— a mere trifle to Higginson, who plays for 
thousands. So he must have offered to 
arrange matters for Lord Southminster if 
Southminster would consent to make 
good that sum and a great deal more 
to him. That odious little cad told 
me himself on the Jumna they were 
engaged in pulling off * a big coup ' between 
them. He thought then I would marry him, 
and that he would so secure my connivance 

hidden somewhere in Mr* Ashurst's house — 
Harold's house — our house ; and that because 
it is there, Lord Southminster is so indecently 
anxious to oust his aunt and take instant 

" In that case," Mr. Hayes remarked, kt we 
had better go back to Lady (ieorgina without 
one minute's delay, and, while she still holds 
the house, institute a thorough search for it* 

No sooner said than done. We jumped 
again into our cab and started. As we drove 
back, Mr. Hayes asked me where I thought 
we were most likely to find it. 

" In a secret drawer in Mr. Ashurst s 
desk," I ansS^d^abfraa^flash of instinct, 




" How do you know there's a secret 
drawer ? " 

44 1 don't know it I infer it from my 
general knowledge of Mr. Ashurst's character. 
He loved secret drawers, ciphers, crypto- 
grams, mystery-mongering." 

" But it was in that desk that your husband 
found the forged document," the lawyer 

Once more I had a flash of inspiration or 
intuition. "Because White, Mr. Ashurst's 
valet, had it in readiness in his possession," I 
answered, "and hid it there, in the most 
obvious and unconcealed place he could 
find, as soon as the breath was out of his 
master's body. I remember now Lord South- 
minster gave himself away to some extent in 
that matter. The hateful little creature isn't 
really Clever enough, for all his cunning 
— and with Higginson to back him— to 
mix himself up in such tricks as forgery. 
He told me at Aden he had had a tele- 
gram from 'Marmy's valet,' to report 
progress ; and he received another, the 
night Mr. Ashurst died, at Moozuffernuggar. 
Depend upon it, White was more or less 
in this plot ; Higginson left him the forged 
will when they started for India ; and as soon 
as Mr. Ashurst died White hid it where 
Harold was bound to find it." 

" If so," Mr. Hayes answered, " that's 
well ; we have something to go upon. The 
more of them, the better. There is safety 
in numbers — for the honest folk. I never 
knew three rogues hold long together, 
especially when threatened with a criminal 
prosecution. Their confederacy breaks down 
before the chance of punishment. Each 
tries to screen himself by betraying the 

" Higginson was the soul of this plot," I 
went on. "Of that you may be sure. 
He's a wily old fox, but we'll run him to 
earth yet. The more I think of it, the 
more I feel sure, from what I know of 
Mr. Ashurst's character, he would never have 
put that will in so exposed a place as the one 
where Harold says he found it." 

We drew up at the door of the disputed 
house just in time for the siege. Mr. Hayes 
and I walked in. We found Lady Georgina 
face to face with Lord Southminster. The 
opposing forces were still at the stage of 
preliminaries of warfare. 

" Look heah," the pea-green young man 
was observing, in his drawling voice, as we 
entered ; " it's no use your talking, deah 
Georgey. This house is mine, and I won't 
have you meddling with it." 

" This house is not yours, you odious little 
scamp," his aunt retorted, raising her shrill 
voice some notes higher than usual ; " and 
while I can hold a stick you shall not come 
inside it." 

" Very well, then ; you drive me to hostili- 
ties, don't yah know. I'm sorry to show 
disrespect to your grey hairs — if any — but I 
shall be obliged to call in the police to eject 

"Call them in if you like," I answered, 
interposing between them. "Go out and 
get them ! Mr. Hayes, while he's gone, send 
for a carpenter to break open the back of 
Mr. Ashurst's escritoire." 

" A carpentah ? " he cried, turning several 
degrees whiter than his pasty wont. " What 
for ? A carpentah ? " 

I spoke distinctly. "Because we have 
reason to believe Mr. Ashurst's real will is 
concealed in this house in a secret drawer, 
and because the keys were in the possession 
of White, whom we believe to be your 
accomplice in this shallow conspiracy." 

He gasped and looked alarmed. " No, 
you don't," he cried, stepping briskly for- 
ward. " You don't, I tell yah ! Break open 
Marmy's desk ! Why, hang it all, it's my 

"We shall see about that after we've 
broken it open," I answered, grimly. " Here, 
this screw-driver will do. The back's not 
strong. Now, your help, Mr. Hayes — one, 
two, three ; we can prise it apart between 

Lord Southminster rushed up and tried to 
prevent us. But Lady Georgina, seizing 
both wrists, held him tight as in a vice with 
her dear skinny old hands. He writhed and 
struggled, all in vain : he could not escape 
her. " I've often spanked you, Bertie," she 
cried, " and if you attempt to interfere, I'll 
spank you again ; that's the long and the 
short of it ! " 

He broke from her and rushed out, to call 
the police, I believe, and prevent our desecra- 
tion of poor Marmy's property. 

Inside the first shell were several locked 
drawers, and two or three open ones, out of 
one of which Harold had fished the false 
will. Instinct taught me somehow that the 
central drawer on the left-hand side was the 
compartment behind which lay the secret 
receptacle. I prised it apart and peered 
about inside it. Presently, I saw a slip- 
panel, which I touched with one finger. The 
pigeon-hole flew open and disclosed a narrow 
slit. I clutched tolTsomething — the will! 



a wild shout. Not a doubt of it ! The real, 
the genuine document ! 

We turned it over and read it It was my 
own fair copy, written at Florence, and bear- 
ing all the small marks of authenticity about 
it which I had pointed out to Mr. Hayes as 
wanting to the forged 
and impounded docu- 
ment. Fortunately, 
Lady ( reo rgi na and 
four of the servants 
had stood by through- 
out this scene, and had 
watched our demean- 
our, as well as Lord 

We turned next to 
the signatures, The 
principal one was clearly 
Ml Ashurst's — I knew 
it at once — his legible 
fat hand, "Marmaduke 
Courtney As hurst/' 
And then the witnesses? 
They fairly took our 
breath away, 

" Why, Higginson*s 
sister isn't one of them 
at all," Mr, Hayes 
cried, astonished. 

A flush of remorse 
came ovtt me. I saw 
it all now, I had 
misjudged that poor 
woman ! She had the 
misfortune to be a 
rogue's sister, but, as 
Harold had said, was 
herself a most respect- 
able and blameless 
person, Higginson 

must have forged her name to the docu- 
ment ; that was all ; and she had naturally 
sworn that she never signed it. He knew her 
honesty. It was a master-stroke of rascality* 

"The other one isn't here, either," I ex- 
claimed, growing more puzzled, ** The waiter 
at the hotel! Why, that's another forgery J 
Higginson must have waited till the man was 
safely dead, and then used him similarly. It 
was all very clever. Now, who are these 
people who really witnessed it ? ?s 

"The first one/' Mr Hayes said, examin- 
ing the handwriting, " is Sir Roger Bland, 
the Dorsetshire baronet : he's dead, poor 
fellow ; but he was at Florence at the time, 
and I can answer for his signature. He was 
a client of mine, and died at Mentone, The 
second is Captain Richards, of the Mounted 


Police : he's living still, but he's away in 
South Africa." 

" Then they risked his turning up ? " 
"If they knew who the real witnesses were 
at all- which is doubtful You see, as you 
say, they may have seen the rough draft 

" Higginson would 
know/' I answered. 
11 He was with Mr. 
Ashurst at Florence at 
the time, and he would 
take good care to keep 
a watch upon his move- 
ments. In my belief, 
it was he who suggested 
this whole plot to Lord 

" Of course it was/' 
Lady Georgina put in. 
" That's absolutely 
certain . Bertie's 
a rogue as well as a 
fool : but he's too great 
a fool to invent a clever 
roguery, and too great 
a knave not to join in 
it foolishly when any- 
body else takes the 
pains to invent it." 

"And it ?Mja clever 
roguery," Mr. Hayes 
interposed. "An 
ordinary rascal would 
have forged a later will 
in Lord Southminstefs 
favour, and run the risk 
of detection ; Higgin- 
son had the acuteness 
to forge a will exactly 
like the real one, and 
to let your husband bear the burden of the 
forgery. It was as sagacious as it was 
ruthless. 51 

" The next point," I said, " will be for us 
to prove it." 

At that moment the bell rang, and one of 
the house - servants — all puzzled by this 
conflict of interests — came in with a telegram, 
which he handed me on a salver. I broke it 
open, without glancing at the envelope. Its 
contents baffled me: fc * My address is Hotel 
Bristol. Paris ; name as usual. Send me a 
thousand pounds on account at once. I 
can't afford to wait. No shillyshallying," 

The message was unsigned. For a moment, 
I couldn't imagine who sent it, or w T hat it 
was driving aOriginal from 



Southminster, 24, Park I^ane North, 

My heart gave a jump. I saw in a second 
that chance or Providence had delivered the 
conspirators into my hands that day. The 
telegram was from Higginson ! 1 had opened 
it by accident. 

It was obvious what had happened Lord 
Southrninster must have written to him on 
the result of the trial, and told him he meant 
to take possession of his uncled house 
immediately. Higginson had acted on that 
hint, and addressed his telegram where he 
thought it likely Lord Southminster would 
receive it earliest. I had opened it in error, 
and that, too, was fortunate, for even in 
dealing with such a pack of scoundrels, it 
would never have occurred to me to violate 
somebody else's correspondence had I not 
thought it was addressed to me. But having 
arrived at the truth thus unintentionally, I 
had, of course, no scruples about making full 
use of my information. 

I showed the despatch at once to Lady 

valet," he said, quietly. "The moment has 
now arrived when we can begin to set these 
conspirators by the ears. As soon as they 
learn that we know all, they will be eager to 
inform upon one another," 

1 rang the bell. "Send up White/ 7 I 
said* M tt'e wish to speak to him." 

The valet stole up ; self-accused, a timid, 
servile creature, rubbing his hands nervously, 
and suspecting mischief He was a rat in 
trouble. He had thin brown hair, neatly 
brushed and plastered down, so as to make 
it look still thinner, and his face was the 
average narrow cunning face of the dishonest 
man-servant* It had an ounce of wile in it 
to a pound or two of servility. He seemed 
just the sort of rogue meanly to join in an 
underhand conspiracy, and then meanly to 
hack out of it. You could read at a glance 
that his principle in life was to save his own 

He advanced, fumbling his hands all the 
time, and smiling and fawning. ** You wished 
to see me, sir? 1 ' he murmured, in a depre- 

"you wished to see me, sir? 1. 

Georgina and Mr. Hayes. They recognised 
its importance. 4t \Vhat next ? ? " I inquired, 
"Time presses. At half-past three Harold 
comes up for examination at Bow Street-" 

Mr, Hayes was ready with an apt ex- 
pedient " Ring the bell for Air, Ashurst's 

catory voice, looking sideways at Lady 
Georgina and me, but addressing the lawyer. 
"Yes t White, I wished to see you. I have 
a question to ask you. Who put the forged 
will in Mr. A^j unit's desk? Was it vou, or 

» m tlBrt^JffTOPffllCHIGAN 



The question terrified him. He changed 
colour and gasped. But he rubbed his 
hands harder than ever and affected a sickly 
smile. " Oh, sir, how should / know, sir ? 
1 had nothing to do with it. I suppose — it 
was Mr. Tillington." 

Our lawyer pounced upon him like a hawk 
on a titmouse. " Don't prevaricate with me, 
sir," he said, sternly. " If you do, it may- 
be worse for you. This case has assumed 
quite another aspect. It is you and your 
associates who will be placed in the dock, 
not Mr. Tillington. You had better speak 
the truth ; it is your one chance, I warn you. 
Lie to me, and instead of calling you as a 
witness for our case, I shall include you in 
the indictment." 

White looked down uneasily at his shoes, 
and cowered. " Oh, sir, I don't understand 

" Yes, you do. You understand me, and 
you know I mean it. Wriggling is useless ; 
we intend to prosecute. We have unravelled 
this vile plot. We know the whole truth. 
Higginson and Lord Southminster forged a 
will between them " 

" Oh, sir, not Lord Southminster ! His 
lordship, I'm sure -" 

Mr. Hayes's keen eye had noted the subtle 
shade of distinction and admission. But he 
said nothing openly. "Well, then, Higgin- 
son forged, and Lord Southminster accepted, 
a false will, which purported to be Mr. 
Marmaduke Ashurst's. Now, follow me 
clearly. That will could not have been put 
into the escritoire during Mr. Ashurst's life, for 
there would have been risk of his discovering 
it. It must, therefore, have been put there 
afterward. The moment he was dead, you, 
or somebody else with your consent and con- 
nivance, slipped it into the escritoire ; and 
you afterwards showed Mr. Tillington the 
place where you had set it or seen it set, 
leading him to believe it was Mr. Ashurst's 
will, and so involved him in all this trouble. 
Note that that was a felonious act. We 
accuse you of felony. Do you mean to con- 
fess, and give evidence on our behalf, or will 
you force me to send for a policeman to 
arrest you ? " 

The cur hesitated still. " Oh, sir," draw- 
ing back, and fumbling his hands on his 
breast, " you don't mean it." 

Mr. Hayes was prompt. " Hesslegrave, 
go for a policeman." 

That curt sentence brought the rogue on his 
marrow-bones at once. He clasped his hands 
and debated inwardly. " If I tell you all I 
know," he said, at last, looking about him 

with an air of abject terror, as if he thought 
Lord Southminster or Higginson would hear 
him, "will you promise not to prosecute 
me?" His tone became insinuating. " For 
a hundred pounds, I could find the real will 
for you. You'd better close with me. To- 
day is the last chance. As soon as his lord- 
ship comes in, he'll hunt it up and destroy 

I flourished it before him, and pointed 
with one hand to the broken desk, which he 
had not yet observed in his craven agitation. 

" We do not need your aid," I answered. 
" We have found the will, ourselves. Thanks 
to Lady Georgina, it is safe till this minute." 

" And to me," he put in, cringing, and 
trying, after his kind, to curry favour with 
the winners at the last moment. "It's all 
my doing, my lady ! I wouldn't destroy it. 
His lordship offered me a hundred pounds 
more to break open the back of the desk at 
night, while your ladyship was asleep, and 
burn the thing quietly. But I told him he 
might do his own dirty work if he wanted it 
done. It wasn't good enough while your 
ladyship was here in possession. Besides, I 
wanted the right will preserved, for I thought 
things might turn up so ; and I wouldn't 
stand by and see a gentleman like Mr. Til- 
lington, as has always behaved well to me, 
deprived of his inheritance." 

" Which is why you conspired with Lord 
Southminster to rob him of it, and to send 
him to prison for Higginson's crime," I inter- 
posed, calmly. 

"Then you confess you put the forged 
will there?" Mr. Hayes said, getting to 

White looked about him helplessly. He 
missed his headpiece, the instigator of the 
plot. " Well, it was like this, my lady," he 
began, turning to Lady Georgina, and 
wriggling to gain time. " You see, his lord- 
ship and Mr. Higginson " he twirled his 

thumbs and tried to invent something 

Lady Georgina swooped. " No rigmarole ! " 
she said, sharply. " Do you confess you put 
it there or do you not — reptile?" Her 
vehemence startled him. 

" Yes, I confess I put it there," he said at 
last, blinking. "As soon as the breath was 
out of Mr. Ashurst's body I put it there. ' 
He began to whimper. " I'm a poor man 
with a wife and family, sir," he went on, 
" though in Mr. Ashurst's time I always kep* 
that quiet ; and his lordship offered to pay 
me well for the job ; and when you're paid 
well fofjflp^^^^f^'fj 



Mr Hayes waved him off with one im- 
perious hand. "Sit down in the corner 
there, man, and don't move or utter another 
word," he said, sternly, "until I order you. 
You will be in time still for me to produce 
at Bow Street." 

just at that moment, Lord Southminster 
swaggered back, accompanied by a couple 
of unwilling policemen, "Oh, I say," he 
cried, bursting in and staring around him, 
jubilant. " Look heah, George y, are you 
going quietly, or must I ask these coppahs to 
evict you ? n He was wreathed in smiles 
now, and had evidently been fortifying him- 
self with brandies and soda. 

Lady Georgina rose in her wrath. " Yes, 
I'll go if you wish it, Bertie," she answered, 
with calm irony. "Ill leave the house as 
soon as you like— for the present— till we 
come back again with Harold and kis police- 
men to evict you* This house is Harold's. 
Your game is played, boy. 7 ' She spoke 
slowly. " We have found the other will — we 
have discovered Higginson 's present address 
in Paris — and we know from White how he 
and you arranged this little conspiracy.' 5 

She rapped out each clause in this last 
accusing sentence with deliberate effect, like 

to do without him. That fellah had squared 
it all up so neatly, don't yah know, that I 
thought there couldn't be any sort of hitch 
in the proceedings/' 

"You reckoned without Lois," Lady 
Georgina said, calmly, 

"Ah, Miss Cayley — that's true. I mean, 
Mrs. Tillington, Yaas, yaas, I know, she's 
a doosid clevah person for a woman, now 
isn't she ? " 

It was impossible to take this flabby 
creature seriously, even as a criminal. I>ady 
Georgina's lips relaxed. " Doosid clevei " 
she admitted, looking at me almost tenderly. 

" But not quite so clevah, don't yah know> 
as Higginson ! " 

"There you make your blooming little 
erraw>" Mr, Hayes burst in, adopting one of 
Lord South mi nster*s favourite witticisms — 
the sort of witticism that improves* like poetry, 
by frequent repetition. i{ Policemen, you may 
go Into the next room and wait : this is a 
family affair ; we have no immediate need of 

"Oh, certainly," Lord Southminster 
echoed, much relieved, " Yen' propah 
sentiment I Most undesirable that the 
constables should mix themselves up in a 


so many pistol-shots. Each bullet hit home. 
The pea-green young man, drawing back and 
staring, stroked his shadowy moustache with 
feeble fingers in undisguised astonishment. 
Then he dropped into a chair and fixed his 
gaze blankly on Lady Georgina. " Well, 
this is a fair knock-out," he ejaculated, 
fatuously disconcerted. " I wish Higginson 
was heah. I really don't quite know what 

family mattah like this- Not the place for 
inferiahs ! " 

" Then why introduce them ? * I^ady 
Georgina burst out, turning on him. 

He smiled his fatuous smile. "That's 
just what 1 say," he answered. "Why the 
jooce introduce them ? But don't snap my 
head off !©n 



to be relieved of this unpleasant business, 
where they could gain no credit, and might 
possibly involve themselves in a charge of 
assault. Lord Southminster rose with a 
benevolent grin, and looked about him 
pleasantly. The brandies and soda had 
endowed him with irrepressible cheerful- 

" Well ? " Lady Georgina murmured. 

" Well, I think I'll leave now, Georgey. 
You've trumped my ace, yah know. Nasty 
trick of White to go and round on a fellah. 
I don't like the turn this business is taking. 
Seems to me, the only way I have left to 
get out of it is — to turn Queen's evidence." 

Lady Georgina planted herself firmly 
against the door. " Bertie," she cried, " no, 
you don't — not till we've got what we want 
out of you ! " 

He gazed at her blandly. His face broke 
once more into an imbecile smile. " You 
were always a rough 'un, Georgey. Your 
hand did sting ! Well, what do you want 
now ? We've each played our cards, and you 
needn't cut up rusty over it — especially when 
you're winning ! Hang it ail, I wish I had 
Higginson heah to tackle you ! " 

" If you go to see the Treasury people, or 
the Solicitor-General, or the Public Prosecutor, 
or whoever else it may be," Lady Georgina 
said, stoutly, " Mr. Hayes must go with you. 
We've trumped your ace, as you say, and we 
mean to take advantage of it. And then you 
must trundle yourself down to Bow Street 
afterwards, confess the whole truth, and set 
Harold at liberty." 

" Oh, I say now, Georgey ! The whole 
truth ! the whole blooming truth ! That's 
really what I call humiliating a fellah ! " 

" If you don't, we arrest you this minute — 
fourteen years' imprisonment ! " 

" Fourteen yeahs ? " He wiped his fore- 
head. " Oh, I say. How doosid uncom- 
fortable. I was nevah "much good at doing 
anything by the sweat of my brow. I ought 
to have lived in the Garden of Eden. 
Georgey, you're hard on a chap when he's 
down on his luck. It would be confounded 
cruel to send me to fourteen yeahs at Port- 

" You would have sent my husband to it," 
I broke in, angrily, confronting him. 

" What ? You too, Miss Cayley ? — I mean 
Mrs. Tillington. Don't look at me like that. 
Tigahs aren't in it." 

His jauntiness disarmed us. However 
wicked he might be, one felt it would be 
ridiculous to imprison this schoolboy. A 
sound flogging and a month's deprivation 

of wine and cigarettes was the obvious 
punishment designed for him by nature. 

" You must go down to the police-court 
and confess this whole conspiracy," Lady 
Georgina went on after a pause, as sternly as 
she was able. " I prefer, if we can, to save 
the family — even you, Bertie. But I can't 
any longer save the family honour— I can 
only save Harold's. You must help me 
to do that ; and then, you must give me 
your solemn promise — in writing — to leave 
England for ever, and go to live in South 

He stroked the invisible moustache more 
nervously than before. That penalty came 
home to him. " What, leave England for 
evah ? Newmarket — Ascot — the club — the 
music-halls ! " 

" Or fourteen years' imprisonment ! " 
" Georgey, you spank as hard as evah ! " 
" Decide at once, or we arrest you ! " 
He glanced about him feebly. I could 
see he was longing for his lost confederate. 
"Well, I'll go," he said at last, sobering 
down ; " and your solicitaw can trot round 
with me. I'll do all that you wish, though I 
call it most unfriendly. Hang it all, fourteen 
yeahs would be so beastly unpleasant ! " 

We drove forthwith to the proper authori- 
ties, who, on hearing the facts, at once 
arranged to accept Locd Southminster and 
White as Queen's evidence, neither being 
the actual forger. We also telegraphed to 
Paris to have Higginson arrested, Lord 
Southminster giving us up his assumed name 
with the utmost cheerfulness, and without 
one moment's compunction. Mr. Hayes was 
quite right : each conspirator was only too 
ready to save himself by betraying his 
fellows. Then we drove on to Bow Street 
(Lord Southminster consoling himself with a 
cigarette on the way), just in time for 
Harold's case, which was to be taken, by 
special arrangement, at 3.30. 

A very few minutes sufficed to turn the 
tables completely on the conspirators. 
Harold was discharged, and a warrant was 
issued for the arrest of Higginson, the actual 
forger. He had drawn up the false will and 
signed it with Mr. Ashurst's name, after 
which he had presented it for Lord South- 
minster's approval. The pea-green young 
man told his tale with engaging frankness. 
" Bertie's a simple Simon," Lady Georgina 
commented to me ; " but he's also a rogue ; 
and Higginson saw his way to make excellent 
capital of him in both capacities — first 
use him as ^ r ;catspaw, and then blackmail 




On the steps of the police-court, as we 
emerged triumphant, Lord Southminster met 
us — still radiant as ever. He seemed wholly 
unaware of the depths of his iniquity : a fresh 
dose of brandy had restored his composure. 
" Look heah,"he said, ^Harold, your wife 

tin and been a countess as well, aftah the 
govemah's dead and gone, don't yah see. 
You'd have landed the double event. So 
you'd have [gulled off a bettah thing for your- 
self in the ezid, as I said, if you'd laid your 
bottom dollah on me for winnah ! " 



has basted me ! Jolly good thing for you 
that you managed to get hold of such a 
clevah woman ! If you hadn't, deah boy, 
you'd have found yourself in Queeah Street ! 
But, I say, Lois— I call yah Lois because 
you're my cousin now, yah know — you were 
harking the wrong man aftah all, as I told 
yah. For if you'd backed me t all this 
wouldn't have come out ; you'd have got the 

Higginson is now doing fourteen years at 
Portland ; Harold and I are happy in the 
sweetest place in Gloucestershire; and Lord 
Southminster, blissfully unaware of the con- 
tempt with which the rest of the world 
regards him, is shooting big game among his 
" boys " in South Africa, Indeed, he bears 
so little malice that he sent us a present of a 
trophy of horns for our hall last winter. 

Vol. xvh.— 20 

by Google 

Original from 

A Town in the Tree-Tops. 

By Ellsworth Douglass, 

VERYBODY at the pension 
had heard it, but Bayly has a 
circumstantial and picturesque 
manner of narration, which 
givey old stories a new 

"Wasn't it your American millionaire, Mr. 
Waldorf Astor," he said, addressing me, "who 
mnde a wager that he would comfortably seat 
thirty-two guests around the stump of a Cali- 
fornia big tree ? And didn't he do it? 
Brought a slice off the tree-stump more than 
6 T ooo miles, and had a grand dinner on it in 
London ? n 

iv I must say I like your big tree stories 
better than your big tree wines," put in 
(Jail let, a dashing young Frenchman, who 
spoke English fluently ; *' but I don't think 
all that is so wonderful I can show you a 
place, within less than an hour of Paris, 
where more than thirty- two persons can dine 
around comfortable tables high up m the 
branches of a single tree ! " 

"That sounds interesting! Gaillet; to me 
it smells like 'good copy,' Eating up in 
trees might make some novel photographs ; 
what do you say, Bayly?" 

I purposely touched the young Englishman 

on his hobby. He was an amateur photo- 
grapher of the virulent and persistent type, 
and had recently infected me with the 

" If the sun looks promising we will ride 
down there on our wheels to-morrow and 
have a look at them," he replied. " Can you 
go with us and show us the way, (Jaillut?" 

And so, early the next morning, we went 
It was a delightful two hours on the wheel 
in early October Just as the country began 
to grow more broken and interesting, and 
chestnut trees began to strew the paths with 
prickly burrs, we wheeled up a slight hill into 
a quaint village, and dismounting, Gaillet 
exclaimed : — 

11 Here we are at home with Robinson 
Crusoe 1 " 

Had he told me that Robinson Crusoe 
really lived in the flesh and, after returning 
from his lonely adventures, founded this little 
village, and here attempted to bring into 
fashion his old habit of eating in the trees, 
I would have believed it. For here is the 
village bearing his name to this day ; here 
also, as seen in our first photograph, is his 
effigy in the principal street, under his rough, 
thatched umbrella, and with his parrot seated 

jwrn rh>.t... b v ] 


U.I.AtiK (.>]■" KuJUN'Sl 




upon his shoulder, as every schoolboy knows 
him- Here, likewise, are a number of great 
trees, with two or three rustic dining-huts 
built far up on the limbs of each ; and, as 
Gaillet assured us, here, for the last fifty years, 
men and their families have eaten in the trees 
like squirrels. 

As Bayly prepared to take the first photo- 
graph, he noticed that the highest dining- 
stage in the tip-top of the biggest tree had 
curtains drawn around it, which he asked to 
have pulled back. A waiter in formed him 
thai this rustic hut was engaged by a party, 

M Yes, I -tele- 
phoned down 
yesterday after- 
noon, and re- 
served it for us," 
put in Gaillet 
(4 1 also ordered 
the dejeuner. I 
hope you will 
like it : sole am 
graiin and Cha- 
teaubriand aux 

At that mo- 
ment the wind 
left the leaves 
and boughs at 
rest, and Bayly 
snapped the 
shutter, regard- 
less of the cur- 
tains, I made re- 
ply to Gaillet :— 

" I never heard 
of Crusoe's fare 
being quite so 
pretentious as all 
that He must 
have learned 
cookery since he 
came to France. 3 * 

11 1 1 is M . 
Gueusquin ami 
who claims the 
credit for applying the tree idea to modern 
dining. Doubtless he does it better than 
Crusoe could have done* At any rate, he 
has made a large fortune out of the idea — 
far more than Defoe made out of his story. 
It was just fifty years ago," continued Gaillet, 
M that the father of the present proprietor here 
was struck with the clever idea, bought this 
picturesque plot of ground with large trees 
on it, and built rustic dining-rooms on the 
strongest branches. He called his lonely 
little country place Robinson, after the Swiss 

family which figures in the French version of 
the romance, and invited the patronage of the 
fun-loving Parisians who delight in fanciful 
ideas of this sort. At that time it was 
a long coach ride from the city, but it 
soon became the popular rendezvous for a 
day's outing, Since then Kings have dined 
here; thousands of wedding parties have 
seen life rosy from the tree-tops, and nearly 
every Parisian boy who reads the story of 
Robinson's adventures is taken to this 
quaint little village as a realistic sequel M, 
Gueusquiri's success tempted others into 

similar ventures 
here, so that now 
nearly every large 
tree is utilized* 
and Robinson 
has grown into 
quite a respecta- 
ble village, whose 
name will always 
be associated in 
the French mind 
with breezy din- 
ners, family pic- 
nics, donkey- 
riding, bracing 
country air, and 
charming scen- 
ery. The Ligne 
de Sceaux long 
ago built a branch 
line terminating 
here, and a jour- 
ney of forty 
minutes by train 
brings one down 
from the Luxem- 
bourg Station in 

Bayly evi- 
dently cared 
little for these 
facts, for he had 
busied himself 
getting a focus 
on the largest tree, which M. Gueusquin 
proudly advertises as u Le Vrai Athre de 
Robinson" You may see the result in 
the accompanying photograph. Its massive 
trunk has not much increased in size since 
the stairway was built around it half a century 
ago* There is one thatched hut built at the 
first branch of the tree ; another well out on 
a higher limb on the other side of the trunk ; 
and the third and most desirable in the very 
tip-top, from which one sees an enchanting 
view of all :he pretty country lying towards 




From a Photo, it?] 


Paris. A stairway connects all these rustic 
huts with each other, and in the busy season 
a waiter is stationed at each dining stage, 
and the wines and cooked foods are hauled 
up to him froni the ground by means of a 
rope and basket running to each stage, as 
will be seen in most of the photo- 
graphs. At wedding parties these 
same baskets have more than once 
served to lower away some bibulous 
guest whose frequent toasts to the 
bride have ended in a decided dis- 
inclination to attempt the giddy and 
precipitous stairway. 

Bayly went next to inspect a 
larger and more modem dining room 
built between two young trees, and 
I have caught him on the stairway 
in the photograph above* But I was 
anxious to climb to some height and 
get a good view of the nest in the 
tree-top where we were to breakfast* 
I heard someone laughing at my first 
futile attempts at climbing, but at Inst 
I gained a point of vantage which 
gave a view over the tops of the 
trees to the indefinite stretch of 
pretty valley beyond. 

While breakfast was preparing we 
visited the neighbouring inns to 
photograph the trees, just across 
the road we found one which claims 
the distinction of being the tallest in 
Robinson. As will be seen in the 
photograph, it has three dining stages 
one directly above another* so that 

the same basket 
may serve them 
all A waiter can 
be seen in the top 
stage of this thrifty, 
sturdy chestnut, in 
which many gene- 
rations may yet 

Farther down 
the road is a place 
called the Maison 
Robin, possibly in 
the hope that the 
kind public will 
believe that the 
i( true Robinson " 
was this Robin's 
son. Here is the 
« Great Chest nut/ 
which truly looks 
as if it might ante- 
date Robinson 
Crusoe by centuries. Yet it still showers its 
plenteous fruit upon the ground, and as we 
kicked about its bushels of bursting burrs we 
wondered how " marron glac^ " could be so 
expensive in Paris. The next photograph 
shows how the walks were sprinkled with 

L ElUlBBTik Dottffbug. 

Frotn a Pkoto h ¥ ] \>\ |V ^(f^E^d^f MC H IG A N lL < ^l*. 



FrutH 4 Ptoto, bv) 


ripe nuts ; and also some pretty samples of 
the vine or ivy-covered bosquets for those 
who prefer to dine on terra fir ma. These are 
numerous, and charmingly pretty in 
the gardens of most of the inns here, 

Another great feature of Robinson 
is the family picnic, but the French 
love ease and comfort too much to 
dine on the grass under the trees. 
They prefer to sit properly at a table, 
and ninny of the inns recognise the 
right of visitors to bring their own 
provisions, and are content with 
serving them wines, coffee, and the 
like. When you go to Robinson, 
you are sure to recognise this place 
at the turning of the road before 
reaching the great trees. 

I returned to our second stage with 
Gaillet, and found the table laid, but 
not a scrap of food to be seen. The 
waiter was trotting up the stairs with 
a heavily-loaded tray, on which was 
an enormous plate of sole au gratin. 
liaillet remarked that it looked as if 
the people in the top hut had not 
only captured our place, but our 
breakfast as well. He begged the 
waiter to hurry our order, and then 
asked me what I thought might be 
going on up there behind the 
curtains. It was very near us, and 
perhaps for this reason the young 
ladies refrained from audible con- 
versation. They only whispered 
among themselves and laughed at in- 

tervals, but Gaillet 
thought he sur- 
prised one or two 
attempts to peep 
around the curtain 
at us, I was raven- 
ously hungry, and 
when the waiter 
next went past up 
to the top story I 
seized a yard of 
bread from his tray. 
Looking down at 
Bayly, who was 
focusing below, I 
cried out: "I^ince- 
lot, if you are hun- 
gry, get a photo- 
graph of the only 
morsel of fond I 
have been able to 
secure before I de- 
vour it!" And our 
last illustration bears witness that he did so. 
This detailed view of a thatched, rustic hut 
perched upon a big limb finished his work. 

{Ellswatth tMtUyUiM. 

/VuHt a 

«*.*, UNIUERftT*0hMI&flGML 

[L Hnyly. 

Aunt ^a^alrt 


AM afraid to face my Aunt 
Sarah. Though how I am to 
get out of it I don't quite see. 
At any rate, I will never 
again undertake the work of a 
private detective ; though that 
would have been a more useful resolve a 
fortnight ago. The mischief is done now. 

The main bitterness lies in the reflection 
that it is all Aunt Sarah's fault. Such a 

muddlesome old but, there, losing my 

temper won't mend it. A few weeks ago I 
was Clement Simpson, with very considerable 
expectations from my Aunt Sarah and no 
particular troubles on my mind, and I was 
engaged to my cousin, Honoria Prescott. 
Now I am still Clement Simpson (although 
sometimes I almost doubt even that), but my 
expectations from my Aunt Sarah are of the 
most uncomfortable, and my troubles over- 
whelm me. As for Honoria Prescott 

but read and learn it all. 

My aunt is a maiden lady of sixty-five, 
though there is something about her appear- 
ance at variance with the popular notion of 
a spinster, insomuch that it is the way of 
tradesmen to speak of her as " Mrs." Simpson, 
and to send their little bills thus addressed. 
She is a very positive old lady, and she 
measures, I should judge, about five feet 
round the waist. She is constantly attended 
by a doctor, and from time to time, in her 
sadder moments, it has been her habit to 
assure me that she shall not live long, and that 
very soon I shall find myself well provided 

for; though for an invalid she always ate 
rather well : about as much, I should judge, 
as a fairly healthy navvy. She had a great 
idea of her importance in the family — in fact, 
she was important — and she had — has now, 
indeed — a way of directing the movements of 
all its members, who submit with a becoming 
humility. It is well to submit humbly to the 
caprice of a rich elderly aunt, and it has 
always been my own practice. It was because 
of Aunt Sarah's autocratic reign in the family 
that Honoria Prescott and I refrained from 
telling her of our engagement ; for Aunt Sarah 
had conceived vast matrimonial ambitions 
on behalf of each of us. We were each to 
make an exceedingly good marriage ; there 
was even a suggestion of a title for Honoria, 
though what title, and how it was to be 
captured, I never heard. And for me, I 
understood there would be nothing less than 
a brewer's daughter, or even a company-pro- 
moter's. And so we feared that Aunt Sarah 
might look upon a union between us not only 
as a flat defiance of her wishes, but as a 
deplorable mesalliance on both sides. So, 
for the time the engagement lasted (not very 
long, alas !), we feared to reveal it. Now 
there is no engagement to reveal. But this 
is anticipating. 

Aunt Sarah was very fussy about her jewels. 
In perpetual apprehension lest they might be 
stolen, she carried them with her whenever 
she took a change of air (and she had a good 
many such changes); while in her own house 
she kep^^^^ofp^^^iily secret 



hiding-place* I have an idea thai it was 
under a removable board in the floor of her 
bedroom- Of course, we all professed to 
share Aunt Sarah's solicitude, and it had been 
customary in the family, from times beyond 

initials appeared on the frame of the brooch 
behind — " J." on one side and " S. J ' on the 
other. It was, on the whole, perhaps, the 
ugliest and clumsiest of all Aunt Sarah's 
jewels, and I never saw anything else like it 

L A SECRET Hm]\*;-j'r..-u-]-.. 

my knowledge, to greet her first with inquiries 
as to her own health, and next with hopes 
for the safety of the jewels, But, as a matter 
of fact, they were not vastly valuable things ; 
probably they were worth more than the case 
they were kept in, but not very much. Aunt 
Sarah never wore them— even she would not 
go as far as that. They were nothing but a 
small heap of clumsy old brooches, ear-rings, 
and buckles, with one or two very long, 
thin watch-chains, and certain mourning 
and signet rings belonging to departed mem- 
bers of the family who had flourished (or 
not) in the early part of the century, There 
were no big diamonds among them — scarcely 
any diamonds at all, in fact ; but the garnets 
and cats' eyes strove to make p>od in si/e 
and ugliness of setting what they lacked in 
mere market worth. Chief of all the " jewels," 
and most precious of Aunt Sarah's posses- 
sions, was a big amethyst brooch, with a pane 
of glass let in behind, inclosing a lock of the 
reddest hair I have ever seen. It w T as the 
hair of Amu Sarahs own uncle Joseph, 
the most distinguished member of the 
family, who had written three five -act 
tragedies, and dedicated them all, one after 
another* to George the Fourth, Joseph's 

anywhere, except one ; and that, singularly 
enough, was an exact duplicate barring, of 
course, the hair and the inscription — in a 
very mouldy shop in Soho, where all sorts of 
hopelessly out-of-date rings and brooches 
and chains hung for sale. It was the way of 
the shopkeeper to ticket these gloomy odds 
and ends with cheerful inscriptions, such as 
"Antique, i;s„ 6d.," "Real Gold, £i 5s,," 
" Quaint, £2 2s, 6d«" But even he could 
find no more promising adjective for the 
hideous brooch than "massive" — which was 
quite true. He wanted ^3 for the thing 
when I first saw it, and it slowly declined, 
by half-a-crown at a time, to £1 15s,, and 
then it vanished altogether. I wondered at 
the time what misguided person could have 
bought it ; but I learnt afterward that the 
shopkeeper had lost heart, and used the 
window space for .something else. 

Aunt Sarah had been for six weeks at a 
"Hydropathic Establishment" at Malvern. 
On the day fixed for her return, I left a very 
agreeable tennis party for the purpose of 
meeting her at the station, as was dutiful and 
proper. First I called at her house, to learn 
the exact time at which the train was expected 

* p, *#TYMteir ner ,han ' 



had supposed, so I hurried to find a cab, and 
urged the driver to drive hiss best. I am 
never lucky with cabs, however — nor, I begin 
to think, with anything else and the horse, 
with all the cabman's efforts, never got 
beyond a sort of tumultuous shamble ; and 
so I missed Aunt Sarah at l'addington. It 
was very annoying, and I feared she might 
take it ill, because she never made allow- 
ances for anybody's misfortunes but her own* 
However, I turned about and cabbed it back 
as fast as I could. She had been home 
nearly half an hour when I arrived, and was 
drinking her third or fourth cup of tea. She 
was not ill-tempered* on the: whole, and she 
received my explanations with a fairly good 
grace. She had been a little better, she 

herself stowed the case at the bottom of 
her biggest and strongest trunk, which was 
now upstairs, partly unpacked. My question 
reminded her, and she rose at once, to trans- 
fer her valuables to their permanent hiding- 

I heard Aunt Sarah going upstairs with a 
groan at every step, each groan answered by a 
loud creak from the woodwork. Then for 
awhile there was silence, and I walked to the 
French window^ to look out on the lawn and 
the carriage-drive. But as I looked, suddenly 
there came a dismal yell from above, followed 
by many shrieks. 

We —myself and the servants -found Aunt 
Sarah seated on a miscellaneous heap of 
clothes by the side of her big trunk, a picture 


thought, during her stay at Malvern, but 
feared that her health could make no 
permanent improvement. And indeed there 
seemed very little room for improvement in 
Aunt Sarahs bodily condition, and no more 
room at all in her clothes. Then, in the 
regular manner, I inquired as to the well- 
being of the jewels, 

The jewels, it seemed, were all right 
Aunt Sarah had seen to that. She had 

of calamity. * l Gone ! " she ejaculated, 
" Stolen ! All my jewels ! Stop thief ! Catch 
'em ! My jewel-case ! " 

There was no doubt about it, it seemed 
The case had been at the bottom of the big 
trunk —Aunt Sarah had put it there herself— 
and now it was gone. The trunk had been 
locked and tightly corded at Malvern, and it 
had been t >p««u±ci : -ijJI ffyWfi Sarah's maid as 
soon a^ iftta4lii«p 1 set Ttoto -where it now 




stood. But now the jewel-case was gone, 
and Aunt Sarah made such a disturbance as 
might be expected from the Constable of the 
Tower if he suddenly learned that the Crown 
of England was gone missing, 

"Clement ! " said my aunt, when she rose 
to her feet, after sending for the police ; " go, 
Clement, and find my jewels, I rely on your 
sagacity. The police are always such fools. 
But you —you I can depend upon. Bring 
the jewels back, my dear, and you will never 
regret it, I promise you. At least bring back 
the brooch — the brooch with Uncle Joseph's 
hair and initials* That I must have, Clement !" 
And here Aunt Sarah grew quite impressive — 
almost noble. " Clement, I rely entirely on 
you. I forbid you 
to come into my 
presence again 
without that 
brooch ! Find it, 
and you will be 
rewarded to the 
utmost of my 

power ! " 

Nevertheless, as 

I have said, Aunt 

Sarah took care to 

call in the police. 
Now iv hat was I 

to do ? Of course, 

I must make an 

effort to satisfy 

Aunt Sarah ; but 

how ? The thing 

was absurd enough, 

and personally, I 

was in little grief 

at the loss, but 

Aunt Sarah must 

be propitiated at 

any cost. I was 

to go and find the 

jewels, or at least 

the brooch, and 

the whole world 

was before me 

wherein to search, 

I was confused, not 

to say dazed. I 

stood on the {lave- 
ment outside Aunt 

Sarah's gate, and I tried to remember what 

the detectives I had read of did in such 

circumstances as these* 

What they did, of course, was to find a 

clue— instantly and upon the spot. I 

stared blankly up and down the street— it 

was a quiet road in Belsize Park — but I 

Vol. xvii.-2T. 

t L rt N^n._ 

nt; 11 "I. u, it was k button, 

could see nothing that looked like a clue. 
Perhaps the commonest sort of clue was 
footprints. But the weather was fine and 
dry, and the clean, hard pavement was with- 
out a mark of any kind. Besides, I had a 
feeling that footprints as a clue were a little 
threadbare and out of date ; they were so 
obvious so *' otiose" as I have heard it 
called. No respectable novelist would 
depend on footprints alone, nowadays* Then 
there was a piece of the thiefs coat/ torn off 
by a sharp railing, or by a broken bottle on 
top of a wall ; and there was also a lost but- 
ton, I remembered that many excellent 
detective stories had been brought to breath- 
less and triumphant terminations by the aid 

of one or other 
of these clues. I 
looked carefully 
along the line of 
broken glass that 
defended the top 
of Aunt Sarah's 
outer wall, but not 
a rag, not a shred, 
fluttered there, I 
tried to remember 
something else, 
and as I ga^ed 
thoughtfully down- 
ward, my eye was 
attracted by some 
small black ohject 
lying on the pave- 
ment by the gate. 
I stooped — and 
behold, it was a 
button ! A trouser 
button, by all that's 
lucky ! 

I snatched it 
eagerly, and read 
the name stamped 
thereon, " J. Pul- 
linger, London/' I 
knew the name — 
indeed it was the 
name of my own 
tailor, The scent 
would seem to be 
growing stronger. 
But at that mo- 
ment I grew conscious of an uneasy subsi- 
dence of my right trouser-leg. Hastily 
clapping my hand under my waistcoat, I 
found a loose brace-strap, and then realized 
that I had merely picked up my own button, 
I went home. 

I spent the ^iffiUife in fruitless brain- 




cudgelling. My brightest idea (which came 
about midnight) was to go back to Aunt 
Sarah's the first thing in the morning. True, 
she had forbidden me to come into her 
presence without that brooch, but that, I felt, 
must be regarded rather as a burst of rhetoric 
than as a serious prohibition. Besides, 
the case might have been stolen by one of 
her own servants ; and, moreover, if I 
wanted a clue, clearly I must begin my 
search at the very spot where the theft had 
been committed. She couldn't object to 
that, anyhow. 

So in the morning I went. Aunt Sarah 
seemed to have forgotten her order that I 
must not approach her without the brooch, 
but she seemed hurt to find I had not 
brought it She had had no sleep all night, 
she said. She thought I ought to have dis- 
covered the thieves before she went to bed ; 
but at any rate, she expected I would do it 
to-day. I said I would certainly do my best, 
and I fear I found it necessary to invent a 
somewhat exciting story of my adventures of 
the previous evening in search of the brooch. 

There was a plain-clothes constable, it 
seemed, still about the place, and the police 
had searched all the servants' boxes, without 
discovering anything. Their theory, it 
seemed, was that some thief must have 
secreted himself about the garden, entered 
by a French window soon after Aunt Sarah's 
arrival, made his way to the bedroom — 
which would bz easy, for there were two 
staircases — and then made off with the case ; 
and, indeed, Aunt Sarah declared that the 
clothes in the box were much disturbed 
when she discovered her loss. The police 
spoke mysteriously about "a clue," but 
would not say what it was — which, no doubt, 
would be unprofessional. 

All the servants had been closely ques- 
tioned, and the detective now in the place 
wished to ask me if I had observed anything 
unusual. I hadn't, and I told him so. Had 
I noticed whether any of the French windows 
were open when I called the first time ? 
No, I hadn't noticed. I didn't happen to 
have called more than once before my aunt 
had come in ? No, I didn't. Which way 
had I entered the house when I came back 
after my aunt's arrival ? By the front door, 
in the usual way. Was the front door open ? 
Yes, I remembered that it was — probably 
left open by forgetfulness of the servants 
after the luggage had been brought in ; so 
that I had come in without knocking or 
ringing. And he asked other questions 
which I have forgotten. I did not feel 

hopeful of his success, although he seemed 
so very sagacious ; he spoke with an air of 
already knowing all about it, but I doubted. 
All my experience of newspaper reports told 
me that when the police spoke mysteriously 
of "a clue," that case might as well be 
given up at once, to save trouble. That 
seemed also to be Aunt Sarah's opinion. 
Before I left she confided to me that she 
didn't believe in the police a bit ; she was 
sure that they were only staring about and 
asking questions to make a show of doing 
something, and that it would end in no result 
after all. All the more, she said, must she 
rely on me. The punishment of the thief was 
altogether a secondary matter ; what she 
wanted were the jewels — or, as a minimum, 
the brooch with Uncle Joseph's hair in it. 
She would be glad if I would report progress 
to her during my search, but whether I did 
so or not, she must insist on my recovering 
the property. I was a grown man now, she 
pointed out, and, with my intelligence, ought 
to be easily equal to such a small thing ; 
certainly more so than mere ordinary ignorant 
policemen. Of those she gave up all hope. 
She would not mind if I took a day or two 
over it, but she would prefer me to find the 
brooch at once. 

I felt a little desperate when I left Aunt 
Sarah. I must do something. She had 
made up her mind that I was to recover the 
trinkets, or at least the brooch, and if I failed 
her she would cut me off, I knew. There 
was a fellow called Finch, secretary to the 
Society for the Dissemination of Moral Litera- 
ture among the Esquimaux, who had been 
very friendly with her of late, and although I 
had no especial grudge against the Esquimaux 
as a nation, I had a strong objection to see- 
ing Aunt Sarah's fortune go to provide them 
with moral literature, or Mr. Finch with his 
salary — the latter being, I had heard, the 
main object of the society. I spent the day 
in fruitless cogitation and blank staring into 
pawnshop windows, in the remote hope of 
seeing Aunt Sarah's brooch exposed for sale. 
And on the following morning I went back 
to Aunt Sarah. 

I confess I had a tale prepared to account 
for my time — a tale, perhaps, not strictly true 
in all its details. But what was I to do to 
satisfy such a terrible old lady? I must say 
I think it was a very interesting sort of tale, 
with plenty of thieves' kitchens and re- 
ceivers' dens in it, and, on the whole, it went 
down very well, although I could see that 
Aunt Sarah's good opinion of me was in 
danger for lack of tangible result to my 




adventures. The police, she said, had given 
the case up altogether and gone away, They 
reported, finally, that there was no clue, and 
that they could do nothing. I came away, 
feeling a good deal of sympathy with the 

And then the wicked thought came —the 
wicked thought that has caused all the 
trouble. Plainly, the jewels were gone irre- 
coverably — did not the police admit it ? 
Aunt Sarah would never see them again, and 
I should be cut out of her will— unless I 
brought her, at least, that hideous old brooch. 
The brooch by this time was probably in the 
melting-pot ; fe/— there was, or had been, an 
exact duplicate in 
the grimy shop in 
Soho. There was 
the wicked idea. 
Perhaps this dupli- 
cate brooch hadn't 
been sold If not, 
it would be easy 
to buy it, stuff it 
with red hair, and 
take it back in 
triumph to Aunt 
Sarah. And, as I 
thought, 1 remem- 
bered that I had 
frequently seen a 
girl with just such 
red hair, waiting at 
a cheap eating- 
house, where I 
sometimes passed 
on my way home. 
I had noticed her 
particularly, not 
only because of 
the uproarious 
colour of her hair, 
which was striking 
enough, but be- 
cause of its exact similarity in shade to 
that in Aunt Sarah's brooch. No doubt the 
girl would gladly sell a small piece of it for a 
few shillings. Then the initials for the 
brooch-back would be easy enough. They 
were just the plain italic capitals J and S, 
one at each side, and I was confident that, 
with the brooch before me, I could trace 
their precise shape and size for the guidance 
of an engraver. And Aunt Sarah would 
never for a moment suppose that there could 
be another brooch in the world at all like her 
most precious "jewel." The longer I 
thought over the scheme the easier it seemed, 
and the greater the temptation grew. Till 

at last I went and looked in at the window 
of the shop in Soho. 

Was the brooch sold or not ? It was not 
in the window, and I tried to persuade my- 
self that it must be gone. I hung about 
for some little while, but at last I took 
the first step in the path of deception. I 
went into the shop. 

Once there, I was in for it, and nothing 
but the absence of the brooch could have 
saved me. But the brooch was there, in all 
its dusty hideousness, in a box, among scores 
of others. I turned it over and over ; there 
was no doubt about it — barring the hair and 
the initials, it was as exact a duplicate as was 

ever made. The 
man asked two 
pounds ten for it, 
and I was in such 
a state of agitation 
that I paid the 
money at once, 
feeling unequal to 
the further agony 
of beating him 
down to the price 
he had last offered 
it at in his window. 
I slipped it into 
my trouser pocket 
and sneaked 
guiltily down the 
street There was 
no going back for 
me now— fate was 
too strong, I went 
home and locked 
myself in my room. 
There I spent an 
hour and a half in 
marking the exact 
position and size 
of the necessary 
initials. When all 
was set out satisfactorily, 1 went back to 
Soho again to find an engraver. 

I might have gone to the shop where I had 
bought the brooch, but I fancied that might let 
the shopkeeper some little way into my secret, 
I walked till I came to just such another 
shop, and then, feeling, as 1 imagined, like 
an inexperienced shoplifter on a difficult job, 
I went in and gave my instructions. I offered 
to pay extra if the work could be done at 
once, and under my inspection. The engraver 
eyed me rather curiously, I fancied, but he 
was quite ready to earn his money, and in a 
quarter of an hour I was sneaking along the 

st n?$aifv SfIcM^ brooch ' one 




step nearer completion. The letters, to my 
eye at least, were as exactly cut as if copied 
from the original. They were a bit too bright 
and new, of course, but that I would remedy 
at home, and I did. A little fine emery on 
the point of my thumb, properly persevered 
with, took off all the raw edges and the new- 
ness of appearance, and a trifle of greasy black 
from a candle-wick, well wiped into the 
incisions and almost all wiped out again, left 
the initials apparently fifty years old at 

Next morning's interview with Aunt Sarah 
was one of veiled triumph. I was on the 
track of the jewels at last, I said — or at any 
rate, of the brooch. I might have to sacrifice 
the rest, I explained, for the sake of getting 
that. Indeed, I was pretty sure that I could 
only get at the brooch. I could say no 
more, just then, but I hinted that nothing 
must be said to a soul, as my proceedings 
might possibly be considered, in the eye of 
the law, something too near compounding a 
felony. But I would risk that, I assured 
Aunt Sarah, and more, in her behalf. She 
was mightily pleased, and said I was the 
only member of the family worth his salt. 
I began to think the Esquimaux stood a 
chance of going short of moral literature, if 
Mr. Finch were depending much on Aunt 
Sarah's will. 

The rest seemed very easy, but in reality 
it wasn't. I set out briskly enough for the 
eating-house, but as I neared it my steps 
grew slower and slower. It seemed an easy 
thing, at a distance, to ask for a lock of the 
red-headed girl's hair, but as I came nearer 
the shop, and began to consider what I 
should say, the job seemed a bit awkward. 
She was a thick-set sort of girl, with very red 
arms and a snub nose, and I felt doubtful 
how she would take the request. Perhaps 
she would laugh, and dab me in the face 
with a wet lettuce, as I had once seen her 
do with a jocular customer. Now, I am a 
little particular about my appearance and 
bearing, and I was not anxious to be dabbed 
in the face with a wet lettuce by a red-haired 
waitress at a cheap eating-house. If I had 
knowTi anybody else with hair of that extra- 
ordinary colour I would not have taken the 
risk ; but I didn't. Nevertheless I hesitated, 
and walked up and down a little before 

There was no customer in the place, for it 
was at least an hour before mid-day. The 
girl issued from a recess at the back, and came 
toward me. She seemed a terrible — a most 
formidable girl, seen so closely. She had 

small, sharp eyes, a snub nose, and a very large 
mouth — the sort of mouth that is ever ready to 
pour forth shrill abuse or vulgar derision. My 
heart sank into my boots, I couldn't— no, I 
couldn't ask her straightaway for a lock of her 

I temporized. I said I would have some- 
thing to eat. She asked what I said I 
would take anything there was. After a 
while she brought a plate of hideous coarse 
cold beef— like cat's meat This is a sort of 
food I cannot eat, but I had to try. And 
she brought pickles on a plate — horrid, messy 
yellow pickles. I had often wondered as I 
passed what gave that eating-house its un- 
pleasant smell, and now I knew it was the 

I cut the offensive stuff into small pieces, 
made as much show of eating it as I could, 
and shoved it into a heap at one side of the 
plate. The girl had retired to a partly 
inclosed den at the back of the shop, 
where she seemed to be washing plates. 
After all, I reflected, there was nothing to be 
afraid of. It was a purely commercial 
transaction, and no doubt the girl would 
be very glad to sell a little of her hair. 
Moreover, the longer I waited the greater 
risk I ran of having other customers come 
in and spoil the thing altogether. There 
was the hair — the one thing to straighten 
all my difficulties, and a few shillings would 
certainly buy all I wanted. I rapped on the 
table w T ith my fork. 

The red-haired girl came down the shop 
wiping her hands on her apron — big hands, 
and very red ; terrible hands to box an ear 
or claw a face. This thought disturbed me, 
but I said, manfully, " I should like, if 
you've no objection, to have — I should like 
— I should like a " 

It was useless. I couldn't say u a lock 
of your hair." I stammered, and the girl 
stared doubtfully. " Cawfy ? " she suggested. 

"Yes, yes," I answered, eagerly, with a 
breath of relief. " Coffee, of course." 

The coffee was as bad as the beef. It came 
in a vast, thick mug, like a gallipot with a 
handle. It ought to have been very strong 
coffee, considering its thickness, but it had a 
flat, rather metallic taste, and a general flavour 
of boiled crusts. 

I became convinced that the real reason of 
my hesitation was the fact that I had not 
settled how much to offer for the hair. It 
might look suspicious, I reflected, to offer 
too much, but, on the other hand, it would 
never do to offer too little. What was the 
golden mean ? As 1 considered, a grubby, 



shameless boy put his head in at the door, 
and shouted, " Wayo, carrots ! What price 
yer wig ? " 

The red- haired girl made a savage rush> 
and the boy danced off across the street with 
gestures of derision. Plainly^ I couldn't 
make an offer at all after that. She would 
take it as a deliberate insult— suggested by 
the shout of the dirty boy. Perhaps she 
would make just such a savage rush at me — 
and what should I do then ? Here the matter 

of reaching for a paper, or a mustard-pot, or 
the like. But that was useless* I never 
knew which w F ay she would move next, and 
1 saw no opportunity of effecting my purpose 
without the risk of driving the points of my 
scissors into her head. Indeed, if I had 
seen the chance, 1 should scarce have had 
the courage to snip. And once, when she 
turned suddenly, she looked a trifle sus- 

I attempted to engage her in conversa- 

^ @ ^©D 


was settled for the present by the entrance 
of two coal-heavers, 

For three days in succession I went to 
that awful eating-house, and each day 1 ate, 
or pretended to eat, just such an awful meal. 
I shirked the hod", but I was confronted 
with equally fearful bloaters — bloaters that 
smelt right across the street. It occurred to 
me, so criminal and so desperate had I 
grown, that I might $kal enough of the girl's 
hair for my purpose, by the aid of a pair of 
pocket scissors, and so escape all difficulty. 
With that design I followed her quietly down 
the shop once or twice, making a pretence 

tion, in order that I might, by easy and 
natural stages, approach the subject of her 
bain It was not easy. She disliked hair as 
a subject of conversation. 1 began to sus- 
pect, and more than suspect, that her hair 
was the stock joke of the regular customers. 
Not a boy could pass the door singing " Her 
golden hair was hanging down her back" 
(as most of them did), hut she bridled 
and glared. Truly, it was very awkward. 
But then, there was no other such hair, so 
far as my observation had gone, in all 
London, or anywhere else. 
Some mBS'ftWe^fflfleasiest wav imaginable 



of dropping into familiar speech with bar- 
maids and waitresses at a moment's notice, 
or less. I had never cultivated the art, and 
now I was sorry for my neglect. Still, I 
might try, and I did. But somehow it was 
difficult to hit the right note. My key varied. 
A patronizingly uttered " My dear," seemed 
a good general standby to begin or finish a 
sentence ; so I said : " Ah — Hannah — 
Hannah, my dear ! " 

The words startled me when I heard them 
— I feared my tone had scarcely the correct 
dignity. Hannah's red head turned, and 
she came across, grinning slily. " Yus ? " 
she said, interrogatively, and still grinning. 

I feared I had begun wrong. It was all 
very well to be condescendingly familiar with 
a waitress, but it would never do to allow the 
waitress to be familiar with me. So I said, 
rather severely, "Just give me a newspaper. 
Ah --Hannah!" 

I think I hit the medium very well with the 
last two words. " Yus ? " she said again, and 
now she positively leered. 

" I — I meant to have given you sixpence 
yesterday ; you're very attentive, Hannah — 
Hannah, my dear." (That didn't sound 
quite right, somehow — never mind.) " Very 
attentive. Here's the sixpence. Er — er " — 
(what in the world should I say next?) 
" What — er — what " (I was desperate) " what 
is the latest fashion in hair ? " 

"Not your colour ain't," she said; "so 
now ! " And she swung off with a toss of her 
red head. 

I had offended her ! I ought to have 
guessed she would take that question amiss 
— I was a fool. And before I could apolo- 
gize a customer came in - a waggoner. I 
had lost another day ! And Aunt Sarah 
was growing more and more impatient. 

At last I resolved to go at the business 
point-blank, as I should have done at first. 
Plainly it was my only chance. The longer 
I made my approach, the more awkward I 
got. I had the happy thought to take a 
flower in my button-hole, and give it to 
Hannah as a peace-offering, after my unin- 
tentional rudeness of yesterday. It acted 
admirably, and I was glad to see a girl in 
her humble position so much gratified by a 
little attention like that. She grinned — she 
even blushed a little -all the while I ate 
that repulsive early lunch. So I seized the 
opportunity of her good humour, paid for 
the food as soon as I could, and said, with 
as much business-like ease as I could 

assume : — 
" I -ah- 

I should like, Hannah, a! 


you don't mind — just as a — a matter of —of 
scientific interest, you know — scientific 
interest, my dear — to buy a small piece of 
your hair." 

" 'Oo ye gettin' at ? " she replied, with a 
blush and a giggle. 

" I — I'm perfectly serious," I said— and I 
believe I looked desperately so. " I'll give you 
half a sovereign for a small piece — just a lock 
— for purely scientific purposes, I assure 

She giggled again, more than ever, and 
ogled in a way that sent cold shivers all over 
me. It struck me now, with a twinge of 
horror, that perhaps she supposed I had con- 
ceived an attachment for her, and wanted 
the hair as a keepsake. That would be 
terrible to think of. I swore inwardly that 
I would never come near that street again, 
if only I got out safely with the hair this 

She went over into her lair, where the 
dirty plates were put, and presently returned 
with the object of my desires— a thick lump 
of hair rolled up in a piece of newspaper. 
I thrust the half-sovereign towards her, 
grabbed the parcel, and ran. I feared she 
might expect me to kiss her. 

Now I had to employ another Soho 
jeweller, but by this time, after the red-headed 
waitress, no jeweller could daunt me. The 
pane of glass had to be lifted from the back 
of the brooch, the brown hair that was in it 
removed, and a proper quantity of the red 
hair substituted ; and the work would be 
completed by the refixing of the glass and 
the careful smoothing down of the gold rim 
about it. I found a third dirty jeweller's 
shop, and waited while the jeweller did 
it all. 

And now that the thing was completed, I lost 
no time on the way to Aunt Sarah's. I went 
by omnibus, and alighted a couple of streets 
from her house. It astonishes me, now, to 
think that I could have been so calm. I had 
never had a habit of deception, but now I 
had slid into it by such an easy process, and 
it had worked so admirably for a week or 
more, that it seemed quite natural and 

I turned the last corner, and was scarce a 
dozen yards from Aunt Sarah's gate, when I 
was tapped on the shoulder. I turned, and 
saw the detective who had questioned 
me, and everybody else, just after the 

" Good morning, Mr. Simpson," he said. 
" Mr. Clement Simpson, I believe ? " 

"Yes," I saMiqi 




"Just so. Sorry to trouble you, Mr. 
Simpson, but I must get you to come along 
o* me on a small matter o ? business. You 
needn't say anything, of course ; but if you 
do I shall have to make a note of it, and it 
may be used as 

What was this ? 
I gasped, and the 
whole street seemed 
to turn round and 
round and over and 
over. Arrested ! 
What for ? 

Whether I asked 
the question or only 
moved my lips 
silently, I don't 
know, but the man 
answered — and his 
voice seemed to 
come from a dis- 
tance out of the 
chaos about me. 

" Well, It's about 
that jewel-case of 
your aunt's, of 
course. Sorry to 
upset you, and no 
doubt it'll be all 
right, but just for 
the present you 
must come to the 
station with me. 
I won't hold you 
if you promise not 
to try any games. 
Or you can have a 
cab, if you like." 

"But'," I said, " but it's all a mistake— an 
awful mistake ! It's — it's out of the 
question ! Come and see my aunt, and 
she'll tell you ! Pray let me see my aunt ! " 

" Don't mind obliging a gentleman if I 
can, and if you want to speak to your aunt 
you may, seeiiV it's close by, and it ain't a 
warrant case. But I shall have to be with you, 
and you 11 have to come with me after, what- 
ever she says/' 

I was in an awful position, and I realized 
it fully. Here I was with that facsimile 
brooch in my possession, and if it were found 
on me at the police-station, of course, it would 
be taken for the genuine article* and regarded 
as a positive proof that I was the thief, In 
the few steps to Aunt Sarah's house I saw 
and understood now what the police had been 
at I was the person they had suspected from 
the beginning. Their pretence of dropping 


the inquiry was a mere device to throw me off 
my ground and lead me to betray myself by 
my movements, And I had been watched 
frequenting shady second-hand jewellery 
shops in Soho I And, no doubt I had been 

seen in the low 
eating-house where 
I might be sup- 
posed to be leaving 
messages for crimi- 
nal associates ! It 
was hideous. On 
the one side there 
was the chance of 
ruin and imprison* 
ment for theft, and 
on the other the 
scarcely less terrible 
one of estranging 
Aunt Sarah for ever 
by confessing my 
miserable decep- 
tion. Plainly I had 
only one way of 
safety — to brazen 
out my story of 
the recovery of the 
brooch. I was 
bitterly sorry, now, 
that I had coloured 
the story, so far as 
it had gone, quite 
so boldly. It had 
gone a good way, 
too, for I had been 
obliged to add 
something to it 
each time I saw 
Aunt Sarah during 
must lie through 

But I 

my operations, 
stone walls now. 

I scarcely remember what Aunt Sarah 
said when she was told I was under arrest 
for the robbery, I know she broke a drawing- 
room chair, and had to be dragged off the 
floor on to the sofa by the detective and 
myself. But she got her speech pretty soon, 
and protested valiantly. It was a shameful 
outrage, she proclaimed, and the police were 
incapable fools. ''While you've been doing 
nothing," she said, " my dear nephew has 
traced out the jewels and — and— 

* 4 I've got the brooch, aunt ! " I cried, for 
this seemed the dramatic moment, And 
I put it in her hand. 

" I must have that, please," the detective 
interposed " Do you identify it ? " 

" Identify it ?" exclaimed Aunt Sarah, 

ra m^itv'rate f / de " ,ifyit! w 



know my Uncle Joseph's brooch among ten 
thousand ! And his initials and his hair and 
all ! Identify it, indeed ! I should think 
so ! And did you get it from Bludgeoning 
Bill himself, Clement, my dear ? " 

Now, " Bludgeoning Bill " was the name 
I had given the chief ruffian of my story ; 
rather a striking sort of name, I fancied. So 
I said, "Yes — yes. That's the name he's 
known by — among his intimates, of course. 
The police " (I had a vague idea of hedging, 
as far as possible, with the detective) — 
" the police only know his — his other names, 
I believe. A— a very dangerous sort of 
person ! " 

"And did you have much of a struggle 
with him?" pursued Aunt Sarah, hanging 
on my words. 

"Oh, yes — terrible, of course. That is, 
pretty fair, you know— er— nothing so very 
extraordinary." I was getting flurried. That 
detective would look at me so intently. 

" Arid was he very much hurt, Clement ? 
Any bones broken, I mean, or anything of 
that sort ? " 

" Bones ? O, yes, of course— at least, not 
many, considering. But it serves him right, 
you know — serves him right, of course." 

" Oh, I'm sure he richly deserved it, 
Clement. I suppose that was in the thieves' 
kitchen ? " 

" Yes — no, at least ; no, not there. Not 
exactly in the kitchen, you know." 

" I see ; in the scullery, I suppose," said 
Aunt Sarah, innocently. " And to think that 
you traced it all from a few footsteps and a 
bit of cloth rag on the wall and — and what 
else was it, Clement ? " 

" A trouser button," I answered. I felt a 
trifle more confident here, for I had found a 
trouser button. " But it was nothing much 
— not actual evidence, of course. Just a 
trifle, that's all." 

But here I caught the policeman's eye, 
and I went hot and cold. I could not 
remember what I had done with that trouser 
button of mine. Had the police themselves 
found it later ? Was this their clue ? But 
I nerved myself to meet Aunt Sarah's fresh 

" I suppose there's no chance of getting 
the other things ? " she asked. 

" No," I answered, decisively, " not the 
least." I resolved not to search for any more 

" Lummy Joe told you that, I suppose ? " 
pursued my aunt, whose memory for names 
was surprising. " Either Lummy Joe or the 
Chickaleary Boy?" 

" Both," I replied, readily. " Most valuable 
information from both — especially Chickaleary 
Joe. Very honourable chap, Joe. Excellent 
burglar, too." 

Again I caught the detective's eye, and 
suddenly remembered that everything I had 
been saying might be brought up as evi- 
dence in a court of law. He was carefully 
noting all those rickety lies, and presently 
would write them down in his pocket-book, 
as he had threatened ! Another question or 
two, and I think I should have thrown up 
the game voluntarily, but at that moment 
a telegram was brought in for Aunt Sarah. 
She put up her glasses, read it, and let the 
glasses fall. "' What ! " she squeaked. 

She looked helplessly about her, and held 
the telegram toward me. " I must see that, 
please," the detective said. 

It was from the manager of the hydropathic 
establishment at Malvern where Aunt Sarah 
had been staying, and it read thus : — 

" Found leather jewel- case with your 
initials on ledge up chimney of room lately 
occupied here. Presume valuable, so am send- 
ing on by special messenger." 

" Why, bless me ! " said Aunt Sarah, as 
soon as she could find speech ; " bless me ! 
I — I felt sure I'd taken it down from the 
chimney and put it in the trunk ! " And, 
with her eyes nearly as wide open as her 
mouth, she stared blankly in my face. 

Personally I saw stars everywhere, as 
though I had been hit between the eyes with 
a club. I don't remember anything distinctly 
after this till I found myself in the street 
with the detective. I think I said I preferred 
waiting at the police-station. 

It is unnecessary to say much more, and 
it would be very painful to me. I know, 
indirectly, through the police, that the jewel- 
case did turn up a few hours later, with the 
horrible brooch, and all the other things in 
it, perfectly safe. Aunt Sarah had put it 
up the chimney for safety at Malvern — just 
the sort of thing she would do — and made a 
mistake about bringing it away, that was all. 
There it had stayed for more than a week 
before it had been discovered, while Aunt 
Sarah was urging me to deception and fraud. 
That was some days ago, and I have not 
seen her since ; I admit I am afraid to go. 
I see no very plausible way of accounting 
for those two brooches with the initials and 
the red hair — and no possible way of making 
them both fit with the thrilling story of 
Bludgeoning Bill and the thieves' kitchen. 
What am I to do ? 





But I have not told all yet. This is the 
letter I have received from Honoria Prescott, 
in the midst of my perplexities :— 

41 Sir, I inclose your ring, and atn sending 
your other presents by parcel delivery, I desire 
to see no more of you. And though I have 
been so grossly deceived, I confess that even 
now I rind it difficult to understand your extra- 
ordinary taste for waitresses at low eating- 
houses. Fortunately my mother's kitchen-maid 
happens to be a relative of Hannah Pobbs, 
and it was because she very properly brought 
to my notice a letter which she had received 
from that young person that I learnt of your 
scandalous behaviour. I inclose the letter 
itself, that you may understand the disgust 
and contempt with which your conduct 
inspires me. — Your obedient servant, 

" Ho no r r a P rescott/ 1 

The lamentable scrawl which accompanied 
this letter I have copied below— at least 
the latter part of it, which is all that relates 
to myself: — 

" Lore Jane i have got no end of a 
yung swel after me now and no mistake, 
quite the gent he is with a tori hatt 
and frock coat and spats and he comes 
here every day and eats what i know he 
dont want all for love of me and he 
give me 1£ a soffrin fur a lock of my hare 
to day and rushed off blushin awful he 
has bin follerin me up and down the 
shop that loving for days, and presents 
of flowers that beautiful, and his name is 
Clement Simpson i got it off a letter he 
pulled out of his pocket one day he is 
that adgertated i think he is a friend of 
your missise havent i hurd you say his 
name but I do love him that deer so now 
no more from yours afexntely, 

" Hannah DOBB&* 

Again I ask any charitable person with 
brains less distracted than my own What 
am I to do? 1 wonder if Mr. Finch will 
give me an appointment as tract-distributor 
to the Esquimaux? 

Vol iviL-as 

by Google 

Original from 

A Record of i8ii\ 


By J. R. Wade. 

T is no new thing for us to 
see records established one 
day and beaten the next, the 
top place nowadays being no 
sooner reached by one indivi- 
dual than challenged by an- 
other. The record in the manufacture of 
cloth, however, with which this article deals, 
though of eighty -eight years' standing, has 
never yet been eclipsed. 

The scene of this remarkable achievement 
in the sartorial art is the village of Newbury, 
Berkshire, and it came about in this way. 
Mr. John Coxeter, a then well-known cloth 
manufacturer, the owner of Green ham Mills, 
at the above-named village, remarked in the 
course of conversation one day in the year 
1811, to Sir John Throckmorton, Bart., of 
Newbury, " So great are the improvements 
in machinery which I have lately introduced 
into my mill, that I believe that in twenty- 
four hours I could take the coat off your 
back, reduce it to wool, and turn it back into 
a coat again." 

The proverb says, " There's many a true 
word spoken in jest" So great an impression 
did Mr. Coxeter's 
boast make upon 
the Baronet, that 
shortly afterwards 
he inquired of 
Mr. Coxeter if it 
would really be 
possible to make a 
coat from sheep*s 
wool between the 
sunrise and sun- 
set of a summer's 
day, That gentle- 
man, after care- 
fully calculating 
the time required 
for the various 
processes, replied 
that in his opinion 
it could be done. 
Not long after 
the above conver- 
sation, which took 
place at a dinner 

party, Sir John Throckmorton laid a wager 
of a thousand guineas that at eight o'clock 
in the evening of June the 25th, 181 i f 
he would sit down to dinner in a well- 
woven, properly-made coat, the wool of which 
formed the fleeces of sheep's backs at five 
o'clock that same morning. Such an 
achievement appearing practically impos- 
sible to his listeners, his bet was eagerly 

Sir John intrusted the accomplishment of 
the feat to Mr. Coxeter, and shortly before 
ftve o'clock on the morning stated, the early- 
rising villagers of Newbury w T ere astonished 
to see their worthy squire, accompanied by 
his shepherd and two sheep, journeying 
towards Green ham Mills. Promptly at five 
o'clock operations commenced, and no time 
was lost in getting the sheep shorn. Our 
first illustration, which is from an old print 
executed at the time, shows the sheep being 
shorn by the shepherd, and is worthy of 
a little attention. Sir John stands in the 
middle of the picture, having his measure- 
ments taken by the tailor, and it is an 
interesting fact that, except that all imple- 


s fie a ii 1 vy: thk fcftbnU ' 





f'VoFH tfwj 


merits to be used were placed in readiness 
on the field of action, the smallest actual 
operations in the making of the coat were 
performed between the hours mentioned. 

Mr, Coxeter stands just behind the sheep- 
shearer, watching with an anxious eye, whilst 
to the right may be seen a tent, which was 
erected presumably for refreshments, and 
schoolboys climbing a greasy - pole and 
generally making the best of the holiday 
which had been accorded them in order that 
they might witness this singular spectacle. 

The sheep being shorn, the wool was 
washed, stubbed, roved, spun, and woven, 
and our next illustration, also from an old 
print, shows the weaving, which was per- 
formed by Mr. Coxeter, junior, who had been 
found by previous competition to be the most 
expert workman. In the background of this 
picture may be seen the carcass of one of 
the sheep ; of which more later. The 
curious-looking objects in the basket, held, 
by the way, by another of Mr, Coxeter s sons, 
are wool spools, while in the extreme back- 
ground, looking out of the window of a 
qua:nt old cottage, may be seen "the gods 
in the gallery." 

When we compare the primitive-looking 
loom seen in this picture with the powerful 
machinery of to-day, the record then estab- 
lished certainly becomes all the more 

The cloth thus manufactured was next 
scoured, fulled, tented, raised, sheared, dyed, 
and dressed, being completed by four o'clock 

in the afternoon^ 
just eleven hours 
after the arrival 
of the two sheep 
in the mill-yard. 

In the mean- 
time, the news of 
the wager had 
spread abroad 
among the neigh- 
bouring villages, 
bringing crowds 
of people eager to 
witness the con- 
elusion of this 
extraordinary un- 

The cloth was 

now put into the 

hands of the 

tailor, Mr. James 

White, who had 

already got all 


ready during the operations, so that not a 

moment should be lost : and he, together 

with nine of his men, with needles all 

[Old 1'rini. 

Frum u Photit. bv <£ J. Cuztter, AbutgdatL 




threaded, at once 
started on it. For the 
next two hours and a 
quarter the tailors were 
busy cutting out, stitch- 
ing, pressing, and sew- 
ing on buttons, in fact, 
ge nerall y converting 
the cloth into a " well 
woven, properly made 
coat," and at twenty 
minutes past six Mr. 
Coxeter presented the 
coat to Sir John Throck- 
morton, who put the 
garment on before an 
assemblage of over five 
thousand people, and 
sat down to dinner 
with it on, together 
with forty gentlemen, 
at eight o'clock in the 

Through the kind- 
ness of Sir William 
Throckmorton, its 
present owner, we are 
able to give our readers, 
in the illustration shown 
at the bottom of the 
previous page, a photo- 
graph of this wonderful 
coat. The garment was 

u large hunting-coat of the then admired 
dark Wellington colour, a sort of a damson 
tint. It had been completed in the space 
of thirteen hours and ten minutes, the wager 
thus being won with an hour and three- 
quarters to spare. 

To commemorate the event, the two sheep 



From, a Photo* by C. J. Cvxvter, Abinffilwu 

who were the victims 
of Mr. Coxeter's energy 
were killed and roasted 
whole in a meadow 
near by, and distri- 
buted to the public, 
together with iso gal- 
lons of strong beer, 
this kilter being the gift 
of Mr. Coxeter, 

Our next illustration 
is a photograph of M r, 
Charles Coxeter, of 
Abingdon, Berks, the 
only living eye-witness 
to this feat. He is the 
younger brother to the 
weaver of the cloth, 
long since dead, who 
is shown in our second 
illustration. His present 
age is ninety - three. 
When approached on 
the subject he said he 
well remembered the 
event, and recalls with 
pleasure seeing the 
workmen dine off por- 
tions of the sheep, in 
a barge on the river 
near the mill. The 
original mill unfortu- 
nately no longer stands, 
having long since been destroyed, a more 
modern mill now occupying the site. 

We now give an illustration of the silver 
medal which was struck in honour of the 
occasion. It is worded as follows : - 

" Presented to Mr. John Coxeter, of 
Green ham Mills, by the Agricultural Society, 

MT John foxfier, » ! 

QfGivmh&m Mills \ 

^Agricultural Society 

\ 'fcrMflniifflrtimtij 7 

' }hwf tnte Clolh 

"> i wv 


A RECORD OF i8ii> 


for manufacturing 
wool into cloth and 
into a coat in thirteen 
hours and ten 

Mr. Coxeter was 
a very enterprising 
individual, for seem- 
ingly not content with 
this wonderful 
achievement, not 
many years after, in 
connection with the 
public rejoicings for 
peace after the Battle 
of Waterloo, he had 
a gigantic plum-pud- 
ding made, which was 
cooked under the 
supervision of twelve 
ladies. This monster 
pudding measured 
over 20ft, in length, 
and was conveyed lo 
his house on a large 
timber waggon, drawn 
by two oxen, which 
were highly deco- 
rated with blue rib- 
bons. The driver was 
similarly ornamented, 
and bore aloft an old 
family sword of state, 
presumably to give 
klat to the occasion* 
Arrived at its destina- 
tion, the pudding was 
cut up in the cele- 
brated old mill -yard 
at Greenham, and 
distributed to all and 
sundry, those who 
had the good fortune 
to partake of it pro- 
nouncing the pudding 
to be " as nice as 
mother makes 'em," 

The famous coat, 
which has found a 
resting-place in a glass 
case in Sir William 



m r]U>TF THE H**IWUrv UK 









AT Wra [ftLOCfc THAT HDRM>0, 


i'i.;nv,i,M, to 



ASD THE Wimj. mVKJI Til 



Th*W«t Spun. Ite TARN Spools WtiHi 

Loomed, and Waft. The CLOTH Bumd, Milled, 
Rawed, Djed, Dry ri, Sheared aod ftmti 


W. Mid IBIT1. TMLfl. « 1IIB1H, 



Tin- p ' . *b* twh * 

lil* IftkMkn, iwtwK tar ifwj, 

h* Bp*rt ittv*-* *p-l % u Mi tm * in .. 



"Throckmorton's hall, 
was exhibited at the 
great International 
Exhibition of 1 85 r , 
where it attracted a 
great deal of atten- 
tion, a few copies of 
the old engravings 
from which our first 
two illustrations are 
reproduced being 
eagerly bought up. 
Our last photograph 
shows the bill which 
was printed for that 

Over thirty years 
afterwards the coat 
was again brought 
before public notice, 
this time at the 
Newbury Art and 
Industrial Exhibition 
of 1884. It was 
photographed for the 
first time, by Sir 
William's permission, 
for this article. 
Though to us it may 
seem rather a curious 
cut for a hunting-coat, 
it was the approved 
style for those times, 
the long coat-tails 
flying to the wind 
during a chase. Need- 
less to say, however, 
this coat has never 
been used for that 

These are certainly 
days of speed, and 
though probably with 
the vastly superior 
machinery of to-day 
this wonderful per- 
formance could be 
eclipsed, it is interest- 
ing to notice that up 
to the piVM-m it has 
never been equalled. 




Original from 

Animal A dualities. 

Note* — These articles consist of a writs of perfectly authentic anecdotes of animal life, illustrated 
by Mr, f* A. Shepherd \ an artist long a favourite with readers of THE ST ft and Magazine. We shall 
he glad to receive similar anecdotes \ fully authenticated by names of witnesses , for use in future numbers. 
While the stories themselves will he matters of fad \ it must he understood that the artist will treat the 
subject with freedom and fancy \ more with a i/ieto to an amusing commentary than to a mere repre- 
sentation of the occurrence. 


jHIS is a tale of true love that no 
social distinctions could hinder ; 
of a love that persisted in spite of 
misfortune, disfigurement, and 
poverty ; of a love that ruled not 
merely the camp, the court, and the grove, 
but the back garden also : of a love that (as Mr. 
Seaman sings) " was strong love, strong as a 

big barn-door"; of a love that, no doubt, 
would have laughed at locksmiths had the 
caehinnation been necessary ; that, in shorty 
was the only genuine article, with the proper 
trade-mark on the label 

"Pussy " was the name of a magnificent 
Persian cat - a princess among eats, greatly 
sought by the feline nobility of the neigh- 


Original from 




bourhood. She was the sort of cat that no 
merely individual name would be good enough 
for ; her magnificence soared above all such 
smallnesses, and, as she was the ideal cat, 
combining all the glories and all the beauties 
of cat-hood in herself, she was called, simply 
and comprehensively, 4% Pussy." 1 She con- 
descended to reside at the house, and at the 
expense, of Mr. 
Thomas C Johnson, 
of The Firs, Alford, 
Lincolnshire, and all 
the most aristocratic 
Toms of the vicinity 
were suitors for the 
paw of this princess. 
Blue Persians, buff 
Persians, Manx cats, 
Angora cats — all 
"were her devoted 
slaves, and it was 
generally expected 
that she would make 
a brilliant match. 
She had a house (or 
palace) of her own 
at the back of Mr. 
Johnson's. Here 
were her bed, her 
lar de r — an elega n t 

shelf supporting her wire meat safe, and 
her special knife and fork — for her meat 
must be cut up for her — and her plate and 
saucer. And here, by the door, many 
suitors waited to bow their respects as 
she came forth to take the air. But 
Pussy, who trod the earth as though the 
planet were far too common for her use, 

turned up her nose at the noble throng, and 
dismissed them with effective and sudden 
language, conjectured to be a very vigorous 
dialect of Persian. 

Then came, meekly crawling and limping 
to her door, one Lantech, a cat of low 
degree and no particular breed. His only 
claim to distinction of any sort was that he 



had lost a leg — perhaps in a weasel-trap. 
He was ill-fed, bony, and altogether dis- 
reputable : his ears were sore, and his coat 
unkempt- He came not as a suitor, but as 
a beggar, craving any odd scraps that the 
princess might have no use for. So low was 
he esteemed, indeed, that nobody called him 
Lamech, Ghkiirpfcl^iTirLame, ant * he was 


22 4 


familiarly and contemptuously known as his regalement. There was intense com- 

" Three-legged Tommy," When the princess's motion among the scorned feline nobility, 

human friends saw Three-legged Tommy Three-legged Tommy was actually admitted 

hanging about, they regarded him as a into that sacred palace, from the portals of 


nuisance and a probable offence in the sight 
of the princess. Wherefore they chased him 
mercilessly, tempering their severities, how- 
ever, by flinging him scraps of food, as far 
out into the road as possible. 

which the most distinguished cats in Alford 
had been driven away ! 

As for Three-legged Tommy himself, he 
grew not only more confident, but more 
knowing. He came regularly at meal times. 


But presently a surprising thing was ob- 
served. Pussy actually encouraged Three- 
legged Tommy ! More, she fed him, and 
her last drop of new milk and her last and 
tenderest morsel of meat were reserved for 


More, he grew fatter, and less ragged. The 
princess enjoyed her self-sacrifice for a time, 
but presently she set herself to get a double 
ration. Sharing . her .provisions was all very 
loving and Ql'^K^IwHiP^ut she began to 




feel that there were advantages in a full meal ; 
and Three-legged Tommy, now grown much 
more respectable, though a hopeless plebeian 
still, distinctly gave her to understand that he 
could do with a bit more. 

powerless to resist her, he would rise and 

Meat it was, of course* And when it was 
cut she would attack it with every appear- 
ance of ravenous hunger— till the masters 

4 **& 


Three-legged Tommy was the princess's 
first and only love, but next in her affections 
ranked Mr, Johnson, It was her habit to 
follow him about the house and garden, and 
to confide her troubles to him, sitting on his 
knee. But now she tried stratagem. Five 
or six times a day she would assail him with 
piteous mews, entreating caresses, beseeching 
eyes, and the most irresistibly captivating 
manners she could assume. (1 What can she 
want?" he would say. "She has not long 
been fed. Is it meat, old girl?" An* I, 

back was turned. Then " Come, my love, 
the feast is spread for thee ! " 

Out would limp Lumech from' behind some 
near shrub, and Pussy would sit with supreme 
satisfaction and watch her spouses enjoy- 
ment of the meal she had cajoled for him. 
And so Three-legged Tommy waxed fat and 
prospered, and the Beautiful Princess was 
faithful to him always. Miss Mary Johnson, 
who was so kind as to send us the story, calls 
Pussy "a devoted helpmeet" We trust she 
meant no pun. 

VoL xviL— 29, 






(2. rA<2 nT 

TORTOISE has many virtues, as 
for instance, quietness, dignity, 
and lack of ambition. But, as a 
rule, activity and courage are not 
credited to the tortoise. This is 
a little anecdote of a tortoise who displayed 
both, in so far as to encounter, single-handed, 
a terrible puppy more than a fortnight old, 
and several inches high at the shoulder. 

for slugs or other garden pests. The man 
who sells them most solemnly avers they 
have, but that is only his fancy ; the tortoise 
— at any rate, the tortoise he sells — is a 
vegetarian, as well as a teetotaler and a non- 
smoker. But as to the strawberry leaves, 
these are longed for by the tortoise even 
more than lettuce leaves. Enthusiasm is not 
a distinguishing characteristic of the tortoise, 

Though the tortoise's lack of ambition 
may be accepted as a general principle, 
nevertheless it is relaxed in the ducal matter 
of strawberry leaves. Every tortoise of the 
sort we keep about our houses and gardens 
has an ambition for strawberry leaves— to 
eat It may also be said as a warning 
(having nothing to do with this anecdote) 
that the tortoise has no ambition, or taste, 

but when he is enthusiastic it is over 
strawberry leaves. The tortoise of our anec- 
dote (he had no domestic name, such was 
his humility) had the even tenor of his life 
disturbed by a sudden inroad of puppies, 
who made things very busy about him. The 
puppies did not altogether understand the 
tortoise, and the tortoise never wanted to 
understand the puppies. But the puppies 

by LiOOglC 


Original from 



were playful and inquisitive. One morning, 
just as the tortoise had laid hold of a very 
acceptable " runner" of strawberry leaves, 
a puppy, looking for fun, seized the other 
end in his teeth and pulled. Something 
had to go, and it was the strawberry 

Was it really angry? What would it do to 
him ? His experience of tortoises was 
small, and this one looked very threatening. 
Perhaps the safest game was to drop the 
strawberry leaves, at any rate. So dropped 
they were, and the puppy sat back in the 

leaf the tortoise happened to be biting, close 
by his mouth. Off went the puppy, trailing 
the "runner" after him, the tortoise toiling 
laboriously in the rear. Presently the puppy, 
finding that speed was no accomplishment of 
the tortoise, stopped at a corner and waited, 

corner, a trifle apprehensive of what might 
happen next. But the strawberry leaves 
were all the tortoise wanted, and those he 
snatched, and straightway squatted down 
upon them. Then he ate them, little by little 
and bite by bite, at his leisure, regarding the 


Up came the tortoise, drums beating and 
colours flyings metaphorically speaking, 
and actually looking as threatening as a 
harmless tortoise can manage to look. 
"Snap!" went the tortoise. The puppy 
was nonplussed. What was this thing? 

puppy defiantly the while. And the puppy 
carried to all his brothers and sisters a 
terrible tale of the prowess of that crawling 
monstrosity that ate leaves, and got formid- 
ably angry if you snatched them away for 



Original from 

By F. C Younger. 

T was midnight : the Witch 
was sitting on an upturned 
basket in the hen-house, star- 
ing at the Meniory-Saver. Xo 
one but a' witch could have 
seen at all inside the hen- 
house* but this particular Witch had gathered 
pieces of decayed wood on the way there, 
lit them at glow-worms, and stuck them on 
the walls. They burnt with a weird, blue 
light, and showed the old Witch on the 
basket scratching her bristly chin ; the Black 
Cock in a kind of faint up one corner, with 
his eyes turned up till they showed the whites ; 
the empty nest ; the halves of a broken 
egg-shell on the floor; and beside them a 
tiny round black lump with all sorts of queer 
little tags hanging on to it, which was staring 
back at the Witch with two frightened little 
pink eyes. 

u It's quite a new idea," said the Witch to 
herselfr li A Memory-Saver ! How thankfu! 

many people would be to get hold of one ! 
But they don't know the way, and they won't 
ask me. They don f t know how to hatch an 
imp to save your memory from a cock's egg. 
They even say that a cock never lays eggs. 
Such ignorance ! Cocks always lay them at 
midnight and eat them before morning ■ 
and that's why no one has ever seen one. 
Rut if you are careful to sprinkle the 
cock with Witch-water three nights running, 
he will lay an egg he cannot eat ; and if 
you bless the egg with the Witch's curse, 
and roast it three nights in the Witch's fire, 
when the moon is on the wane, it will hatch 
a Memory- Saver. Hut poor mortals don't 
know this, and that's why they're always 
worrying and * taxing their memories, 1 as 
they call it, instead of hiring a nice little imp 
to save them the trouble. Come here, my 
dear ! * she added, addressing the Memory- 

The little black Jump rtffled over and over 




until he reached her feet, then gave a jump 
and landed on two of the thickest of his tags, 
which supported him like two little legs. 
With two others he began to rub his little 
black self all over, while he shed little green 
tears from his little pink eyes. 

He was a queer little person, very like an 
egg in shape, with no features but a pair of 
little pink eyes near the top, and a wide slit 
which went about half-way round him and 
served him for a mouth. The Witch re- 
garded him in silence ; she knew that inside 
him was nothing but a number of little 
rooms, carefully partitioned off from one» 
another, which could be emptied by pulling 
the tag attached to each outside. 

There was no sound in the hen-house but 
the frightened clucking of the hens, the 
gasping of the Black Cock in the corner, and 
the sobbing of the imp, which sounded like 
the squeaking of a slate-pencil on a slate. 
Presently the Witch patted the Memory- 
Saver on the head. 

" Don't cry, my dear," she said ; " there's 
nothing to cry about ! And don't look at that 
silly Black Cock in the corner. He isn't 
your Mother any longer. I'm your Mother 
now — at least, all the Mother you'll get, and 
I shall pinch you if you don't work. I'll 
just see if you are in good working order 

She lifted the imp in her hand as she 
spoke, and pulled one of the little tags 
hanging behind him. The Memory-Saver 
gave a gasp, and, opening his mouth to its 
widest extent, he began to repeat, rapidly : 
" J'ai — tu as — il a — nous avons — vous avez — 
ils ont." 

"Very good!" said the Witch, "the 
French string is in order. I'll try the 
poetry.' 7 

She pulled another tag as she spoke. 

Th'Assyrian camedownlike a wolfonthefold, 

And — his cohorts were — gleaminglike purpleandgold ; 

And the — sheenoftheir — spears was like starsonthe 

When the blue — wavesxoll — nightly on deepGalilee 

panted the Memory-Saver. 

" A little jerky," said the Witch, doubling 
the strings round the imp and putting him 
in her pocket ; " but it will work smoother 
in time. It's a splendid idea," she went on, 
as she buttoned her cloak and opened the 
door. " A Memory-Saver ! Pull the string of 
the subject you want (the name is written on 
each tag), and the imp wilUell you all about 
it. Read a set of lessons to him, and then pull 
the strings belonging to them, and he'll reel 
them all off word for word. How many 

children I know would like to get him to 
take to school in their pockets ! There's 
little Miss Myra, who is always in trouble 
about her lessons; she would give all she's got 
for him. But I'll only part with him at my 
own price." 

The Witch had left the hen-house, and 
was trotting as fast as she could down 
a little woodland path. The poor little 
Memory-Saver was jogged this way and that 
among the rubbish in the Witch's pocket 
— queer stones, herbs, little dead toads, 
pounded spiders, and bats' wings. He would 
soon have been black with bruises if he had 
not been black by nature. But the worst 
pain he suffered was anxiety as to what would 
become of him. What was the Witch going 
to do with him ? Why had she taken him v 
away from the Blaclr Cock, who at least 
was friendly if he did gasp and show the 
whites of his eyes? The imp cried again, 
and wondered how long he would have to 
stay in that choky pocket. 

He had not long to wait. That very 
afternoon the Witch saw Myra crying over 
her lessons at the window. She was kept 
in to learn them, and was feeling miserable 
and cross. No one was about, so the 
Witch crept up to the window, and told her 
all about the Memory-Saver, ending by pro- 
ducing him from her pocket. Oh ! how glad 
he was to get out ! He sat gasping with 
delight on the Witch's hand, while she ex- 
plained his talents to someone. Who was 
it ? The imp looked up and saw a little girl 
about ten years old, with an inky pinafore, 
and long, tumbled brown curls. She looked 
so much nicer than the Witch, that the 
Memory-Saver gazed up in her face with a 
forlorn little smile — or at least a smile that 
would have been " little " if his mouth had 
not been so wide. 

" What a queer little thing ! " cried Myra. 
" I should like to have him, only — how could 
he do all you say ? " 

"Just listen," said the Witch, pulling a 

"William I., 1066—William IL, 1087- 

Henry I., 1100 — Stephen, 1135 '" 

said the Memory-Saver, solemnly. 

Myra danced with delight. 

" Oh, he's splendid ! " she cried. " He's 
just what I want. I never can remember 
dates. Oh, how much does he cost ? I'm 
afraid I haven't enough money." 

" I'm sure you haven't," said the Witch. 
" I wouldn't part with him for untold 

" Then it's no use," said Myra, sadly. « I 




haven't even got told gold, only three shillings 
and twopence-ha'penny." 

" You've got something else that will do 
better/ 3 said the Witch, coaxingly. " Hasn't 
your brother a 
large collection of 
moths and butter- 

"Yes," said 
Myra, looking 
rather puzzled ; 
" but what has 
that to do with 

"Show me the 
top drawer of his 
cabinet, dear," 
said the Witch. 

Myra walked to 
the cabinet, still 
wondering, drew 
out the top drawer, 
and took it to the 

The Witch 
looked up and 
down the long 
rows of mot lis, 
each with its wings 
outspread on a 
separate pin. At 
last she picked 
out a great death's- 
head, and looked 
at it lovingly* It 
was a beautiful 
specimen, just 

what she wanted for her latest potion, a 
wonderful mixture that would enable you to 
turn fifteen cart-wheels on a cobweb without 
breaking it. "I'll give you the Memory- 
Saver for this," she cried, eagerly. 

" Oh, but it isn't mine ! " said Myra, 
hastily pulling back the drawer. 

" It's your brother's, dear, 7 ' coaxed the 
Witch. " You know he would not mind," 

" He would," said Myra ; " it's his best 
specimen ; he told me so yesterday." 

" Well, it does him no good in the 
drawer," pleaded the Witch ; " and the 
Memory -Saver would prevent your being 
scolded and punished for not knowing your 
lessons, as you are almost every day. Besides, 
you could easily save your pocket-money and 
buy him another moth." 

"They're so dear ! " sighed Myra. "But 
grandma always gives me half a sovereign at 
Christmas. Well* if you like 

Myra always maintains that she never gave 


the Witch permission to take the moth ; but, 
as shtf spoke, they both vanished, and Myra 
only saw the drawer with the big gap in its 
row of moths where the death's-head had 

been, and the 
Memory - Saver 
grinning ecstati- 
cally at her from 
the window - sill. 
Poor little fellow ; 
he was so glad to 
get away from the 
Witch's pocket, 

Myra's first 
thought was to 
move the pins of 
the other moths, 
so as to fill up 
the big gap. 

"Then perhaps 
he won't notice 
ifa gone/' she said 
to herself; "and, 
as the Witch said, 
it didn't do him 
any good in the 

Then she took 
up the little 
Mem or y-Saver 
and examined 
him curiously. He 
was a funny little 
creature funnier 
than ever just 
now, for he was 
trying to express 
his joy at his change of mistresses, which 
produced a violent commotion in all his 
tags, and considerably enlarged his mouth. 
Myra couldn't help laughing, but as she was 
rather afraid of offending the Memory-Saver, 
she begged his pardon immediately, and 
made him a comfortable seat on some books 
on the table. 

ts Now, Memory -Saver," she said, " I'm 
going to read my lessons aloud to you, as 
the Witch told me. Then you'll know them 
all, won't you ? JJ 

The Memory-Saver nodded so emphatic- 
ally, that he fell off the books. Myra picked 
him up, examined him anxiously to see if he 
were hurt, and, finding he was not, sat him 
down again, 

" I've got two lots of lessons to do," she 
said, mournfully, " yesterday's and to-day's. 
Could you do both at once, or would it 
strain you too much ? JJ 

The Memorv-Saver .-hook himself off his 



2 3 x 

seat this time, in his eagerness to assure her 
he could do twenty lots if necessary. When 
he was once more settled comfortably, Myra 
began to read. The Memory-Saver sat con- 
tentedly absorbing French, and geography, 
and tables. 

" I wonder if you really know it all," said 
Myra, gravely, when she had finished* " No, 
don't nod any more, or you will fall off 
again. Ill just try one string." She took 
him up, found the one marked "Tables," 
and gave it a gentle tug. 

"Once nine is nine, twice nine are 
eighteen, three times nine are twenty-seven," 
said the Memory-Saver, glibly. 

" Stop ! Stop ! that will do \ " cried Myra, 
delighted. "Don't use it all up before to- 

The next thing was to find somewhere to 
keep her new treasure — some place where 
no one could find him ; for Myra felt certain 
that the stupid grown-up people would not 
approve of her imp, or see his usefulness as 
clearly as she did. 

" They always say, ' If at first you don't 
succeed, try, try again,' and ' You must cul- 
tivate your memory,' when I tell them I can't 
remember my lessons," she said to herself. 
" They would take the Memory-Saver away 
from me if they found him. I must put it 
somewhere so that they can't find him." 

Such a place was not easy to find, but at 
last Myra fixed on the top of the wardrobe in 
her bedroom. 

"They only dust there at spring cleaning 
time," she said to herself, "and I can move 
him then." 

So she filled a box with cotton-wool, put 
the Memory-Saver in it, and placed it on top 
of the wardrobe. 

" Are you quite comfortable ? " she asked ; 
and the Memory-Saver almost nodded him- 
self out of his box in his joy. It was 
Paradise after the Witch's pocket. 

" What a good thing he doesn't want any- 
thing to eat," thought Myra, noticing with 
satisfaction that the woodwork of the ward- 
robe quite hid him from anyone below. 
" The Witch said he feeds on the lessons. 
How horrible ! / shouldn't like French 
verbs for breakfast, and grammar for dinner. 
They can't be satisfying, but anyhow, they're 
easy to get I always have more than I 

For some days the Memory-Saver was a 
great success. Myra put him carefully in 
her pocket before she went to school, and 
pulled the right string when she was called up 
to say her lessons. His voice was rather a 


sing-song, but that couldn't be helped. Miss 
Prisms, the schoolmistress, sent home to 
Myra's delighted mother a report that her 
little girl was making wonderful progress in 
everything but arithmetic and writing. In 
these, alas, the Memory-Saver could not help 
her. He could say tables, and weights and 
measures, but could not do sums in his head, 
for the simple reason that he had no head. 

At first he was very happy, for Myra took 
great care of him ; but by degrees she grew 
careless. She found out he was quite as 
useful when treated roughly as when treated 
kindly, and as it was less trouble to treat him 
roughly, she did so. 

"Why can't you do mental arithmetic?" 
she asked him, severely, one day when she 
had got into trouble over her sums. " Aren't 
you ashamed to be so ignorant, you little 

The Memory-Saver waved his little tags in 
a wild attempt to explain that it was because 
he hadn't got a mind, only two little pink 
eyes, a big mouth, and a lot of little partitions 
inside him to keep the different kinds of 
knowledge apart. Unhappily the many bumps 
he had had lately had been very bad for 
his internal constitution, even if the bruises 
had not shown outside ; the partitions were 
beginning to leak. All this he tried to explain 
by waving his little arms and legs. But 
Myra was unsympathetic and did not under- 
stand him. She scolded him heartily, and 
was not even melted by the little green 
tears that trickled from his little pink 
eyes into his big mouth. But she was to 
be punished for it. The poor little Memory- 
Saver had to remember all that was said 
to him whether he liked it or not, and so, 
when Myra pulled the geography string 
next morning in school, he began : " England 
is bounded on the north by Scotland .... 
why can't you do mental arithmetic ? . . . . 
on the south by the English Channel .... 
aren't you ashamed .... on the east by the 
German Ocean .... to be so ignorant 
. . . and on the west by the Irish Sea 
.... you little imp .... and St. George's 

" Myra ! " gasped Miss Prisms, and for at 
least two minutes could say no more. 

" I — I — didn't mean anything," stam- 
mered Myra, blushing crimson and ready 
to cry. 

"I should hope not," said Miss Prisms, 
severely. " You will learn double lessons 
for to-morrow, Myra." 

" It's all your fault ! " said Myra, angrily, 
to the Memory -Saver, when she got home. 




" You must learn all the lessons for me, and 
then I'm going to slap you, do you hear ? 
You horrid little thing ! " 

The Memory-Saver heard well enough, and 
understood too, Myra was in a very bad 
temper. Her brother had discovered that 
his death's-head moth was missing, and was 
making what Myra called a u ridiculous fuss " 


about it. He had not asked her if she knew 
where it was, but she felt very uncomfortable 
all the same. She did riot think he would 
have minded so much. Being uncomfortable, 
she was cross : and as she dared not be cross 
with Miss Prisms, she was cross with the 
Memory-Saver, and fulfilled her promise of 
slapping him when he had done the double 
lessons for hen She was too absorbed in her 
own trouble to notice that his box was half off 
the wardrobe top when she put him— not over- 
gently — into it ; and the bump with which 
she landed on the floor as she got down from 
the chair on which she had been standing 
quite drowned the bump the box made, as it 
fell behind the wardrobe. The poor little 
Memory-Saver fell out with a crash, and lay 
half stunned, feebly waving his little tags. 
No one came to pick him up, so he lay there 
all through the long, dark night. He was 
cracked all over, and something very peculiar 

had happened to his interior. In fact, 
though he did not know it, alf the partitions 
had at last given way, and the French, history, 
spelling, geography, and tables had run into 
one another, and were now all mixed in one 
great pulpy mass inside him. No wonder 
he felt uncomfortable ! 

'When Myra came for him in the morning 
she found out what had hap- 
pened. She fished him out 
from behind the wardrobe 
with a good deal of difficulty, 
and looked at him in conster- 
nation. He was sticky all 
over with the tears he had 
shed, was very soft and limp, 
and, worst of all, was leaking 
the Wars of the Roses and 
the chief towns of France 
from more than one crack. 
However, Myra was late as 
it was ; she had no time to 
examine him can^fully* She 
put him in her pocket, and 
ran off to school She put 
her hand in her pocket to 
feel if he were safe as soon 
as she got to her seat. He 
felt softer and stickier than 
ever. \\ ould he be able to 
say the lessons ? Myra felt 
doubtful, but as she did not 
remember a word of them 
herself, she was obliged " to 
trust to him. Trembling she 
pulled the "Poetry" string, 
when Miss Prisms called on 
her for her lesson. The 
Memory-Saver gasped and began ; each 
word hurt him very much to bring out, 
but as they came he began to feel strange 
and light, happier than he had ever felt 
before. This is what he said : "A chief- 
tain to the Highlands bound - cries — the 
feminine of adjectives is formed by adding 
eleven times nine are Rouen, former capital 
of Normandy, and heir presumptive to the 
throne by his descent from the son of 
Edward III., eleven times twelve are le pfere, 
the father, la mfere, the mother — Oh, I'm 
the chief of Ulva's isle, and this, Paris on 
the Seine * . . ." 

" Myra, stop at once ! " cried Miss Prisms, 
angrily ; but Myra, or, rather, the Memory- 
Saver, could not stop. His internal parti- 
tions were gone, and whichever string was 
pulled, he was obliged to let out all that was 
inside him. So for ten dreadful minutes he 
went on, pouring out French, geography, 



2 33 

history, and tables in one terrible mixture, 
while Myra wished she could sink through 
the floor, the girls tittered, and Miss Prisms' 
anger changed to anxiety. She began to fan 


Myra with an exercise-book, begged her to 
be quiet, and assured her she would be 
" better directly," At last, however the 
Memory - Saver came to an end ; he 
would have been much longer, but a great 
deal had leaked out of him in the night 

"Twelve twelves are a hundred and forty- 
four — Bayonne, at the mouth of the Adour, 
mounted the throne as Henry VII.," he 

Myra burst out crying- Miss Prisms made 
her take sal-volatile and lie on the sofa in 
her sitting-room. As soon as school was 
over, she took Myra home herself, and told 
her mother the little girl must be going to 
have b ruin -fever. The doctor was called in 
and shook his head, looking very wise, 
although he could find nothing at all the 
matter with Myra, "It is a curious case/' 

Vol. *vii,-30 

he said ; " le* her stay away from school for 
a week, and send for me If another attack 
comes on." 

Myra was not sorry for the holiday : it 
gave her time to 
examine the Memory- 
Saver carefully. She 
ran through the gar- 
den to a little nook 
by the duck - pond, 
where no one could 
see her, before she 
dared take him out 
of her pocket and 
look at him ! Poor 
little Memory-Saver ! 
She could hardly 
recognise him as the 
round, plump, cheery 
little fellow who had 
first beamed at her 
from the window -si 11, 
He was quite flat, 
for Myra had sat on 
him in her excite- 
ment ; he was soft 
and pulpy ■ his little 
pink eyes had re- 
lost colour, and his 
opened and shut in 
*asps, like that of a fish out of water. 
Myra ga/ed at him horrified. What could 
she do to revive him? She turned him over 
and fanned him with a dock-leaf, but he only 
gasped Then she tried the effect of a little 
geography, but the result was disastrous ; as 
fast as it entered the poor little imp, it oozed 
out again all over him, and he turned almost 
green with j>ain. 

M Why are you tormenting my offspring?" 
said a sharp, angry voice at Myra T s elbow. 
"Leave him alone, or give him to me; Vm 
hungry ! " 

It was Myra's turn to gasp now ; the 
Black Cock had never spoken to her 
before, and she did not even know he 
could talk. She looked at him more than 

" He — he isn't yours, he's mine," she 

M Yours, indeed I " crowed th^ Black Cock, 
indignantly, M when / had all the trouble of 
laying him ! Wasn't he hatched from one 
of mv eggs at midnight, and stolen by the 
Witch ? " 

M I didn't know he was," said Myra. 
" Well, now you do ! " retorted the Cock, 
"Give htrOrvjihalffrditirft I tell you I was 


treated and 
great mouth 

2 34 


4t But you wouldn't eat your own child ? M 
cried Myra, aghast. 

"Child or not," <*aid the Black Cock, "no 
kind of beetles come amiss to me." 

" He isn't a beetle, he's a Memory -Saver/' 
said Myra* The Black Cock laughed, and 
Myra shrank l>ack ; she had never heard a 
Black Cock laugh before, and felt she would 
not be sorry to never hear it again ; it was 
not a pleasant sound. 

" I dorVt know anything about Memories," 
said the Black Cock ; u but look at him, 
and then tell me hes not 
a beetle ! " 

Myra looked anxiously. 
( "ertainly so met hing \ en 
curious was happening to 
the Memory-Saver : his little 
tags had arranged them- 
selves in rows underneath 
him ; he was growing longer, 
he was very like a beetle. 
Ik was a beetle ! _ 

Myra, who could not l>ear 
beetles, rose with a scream 
and threw him out of her 
lap on to the mud* The 
Black Cock rushed at him 
as he scuttled towards the 
water, but Myra drove him 
back, and allowed the 
Memory-Saver time to reach 
the pond. She gave a little 
sigh of relief us he dis- 
appeared, while the Black 
Cock gave an angry crow, 
turned his back on Myra, 
and stalked back to the 
poult ry yard. He never 
spoke to her again, but 
whether it was because hi 
was too offended j or for 
other reasons, Myra never 

" After all, } * she thought, as 
she went home, "I'm glad he turned into 
a water-beetle, It must be much more 
comfortable than always being full of lessons. 
I suppose he'll live on mud now. I hope 
he'll he happy. He was a good little 
fellow, and I wish I'd been kinder to him. 
How interested they will all be at home 
when I tell them about him ! " 

But they were not. They said she must 
be going to have brain-fever, and sent for the 
doctor again. The only part of her story 
they believed was that she had taken her 
brothers moth from the cabinet, and this 
they said was naughty, and she must save up 
her pocket-money and buy another. 

"Ill never, never tell a grown-up person 
anything again ! ?r thought Myra. 

As for the Memory-Saver, at the bottom of 
the pond he met a pretty young lady water- 
beetle, and asked her to marry him at once, 

■ -%- 


which she did, He raised a large family, 
and lived very happily ever after. None of 
the ducks dare touch him for fear of the 
Witch , so that he found life much more 
pleasant than when he was a Memory Saver, 
Myra often walked round the pond, looking 
for him, but she never saw either him or the 
old Witch again. 

by Google 

Original from 


[We shall be glad to rtctiv*: Contributions to this sett ion , and h pay for such as are Ofcepted,"\ 


The immense shirt seen in the illustration below was 
constructed for a shirLinaker at Sioux City, Iowa* It 
was mounted on a hi cycle and figured in the j trades 
of the Carnival Festival in Oetotjer of last year. The 
yoke measured 5ft, 21 n. from shouldur lu *hmilder, 
waist 2 1 ft. jin., height 8ft + , and collar size 57113. 
and I2in, hiyhu Twenty-five yards of muslin were 
used in making it, and the ironing of the bosom 
was no small job, taking an expert t x { hnurs. Our 
photograph was taken on l ' Bicycle Day.' 1 Pre- 
viously, on vi Industrial Day/' ii had taken first 
prize as the most novel exhibit* On that day the 
bicycle rideis were not in evidence, nor was the 
man in the collar, the shirt gliding gracefully 
along the street without apparent motive power. 
The photograph was sent in by Mr. E. Davis, Sioux 
City, Iowa, U.S.A. 


In the spring of each 
van the enterprising 
firm of Cartwrighl and 
Hcadington, of Port- 
land Ind., U.S.A., 
present their customers 
with pumpkin seed, 
riuVrint; substantial 
prices for the heaviest 
pumpkin gTown from 
their seed. The speci- 
men seen in our photo*, 
which was sent in by 
Mr, Clyde S- Whipple, 
of the Auditorium, 
Portland, is the prize- 
winner out of 140 
competitors. It weighs 
1531b., and is 7ft. in 
circumference. The 
little lw*y inside is four 
years old. 


This charming model of 
Conway Castle and Bridge 
is made entirely from 
tobacco and cigarettes, 
and is the work of Mr. 
John H, Harrison, of 247, 
West Derby Koad t Liver- 
pool* Mr. Harrison writes 
as follows : ** The length 
of the model, which 1 
am exhibiting in my win- 
dow, is Sift, ; depth, 2ift. ; 
height, from surface of 
water to lop of towers, jft. 
The real genuine article 
is used for the water, in 
which gold - fish disport 
themselves, although for 
the purposes of the photo* 
we substituted mirrors* 
This model has been a 
great source of attraction, 11 


«-- *^^Fl*3f MftHtGAN 



■ f m 

■ flit & 

1; ^HrH 

1 "* 

Here we see a gigantic "singing trumpet," which 
is preserved in East I*cake Parish Church, Northamp- 
tonshire. Only four or fiw spetiioetii of these 
trumpets are now in existence. They appear lo have 
been used in some of the Mid laud Counties until a 
generation or so ago, and were patronized by lass 
singers only. The effect of singing through the 
trumpet was to give great depth and power to the 
voice* The large end rested on the front of the 
gallery, while the other was held in the hand. When 
drawn out to its full extent (it has one slide, like a 
telescope)* the trumpet measures 7ft. 6in., and its 
mouth is J ft. .gin. in diameter. Tnily, a fearsome 
instrument ! Photo, sent in bv Mr. Philip E. 
Mel lard, ALB,, Coslock Rectory, Lough) trough* 

This quaint sculptured stone is now included with 
many other fragments, evidently of some church, in 
a wall in Appleby, Westmorland. At first one 
wonders how the dove — who has unfortunately lost 
her head — ever managed to leave the ark either by 

the window or by the magnificent iron -plated door, 
but this wonder jjives place to amazement when one 
notices the size of the patriarch's hand (seen through 
the window h and commences to speculate on how he, 
his children, and the animals find accommodation for 
their grand proportions in this small boat ; the 
problem of packing them would tax the ingenuity of 
a sardine -merchant. Photo, sent in by Mr. A. S, 
Betdj Trinity Col lege , Glenalmond, 

At lirst sight this photo, looks like an ancient 
gargoyle off some church tower, but it is in reality 
nothing more or less than a knot of maple, found near 
Mausaukee, Wis*, tL&.A., by a man of that town* 
The finder positively asserts that no knife has been 

used to produce the fares. You will notice that 
the mouth of the upper face is even equipped with 
teeth. We are indebted for the photo, to Mr. T. 
R. Bowring, photographer, of DePere, Wisconsin. 

The accompanying photo has a melan- 
choly interest. 
It represents 
(. i e no nd Gordon 
as a Captain 
in the Royal 
Engineers, and 
was taken in 
185801- '59, Our 
photo, was 
taken from a 
scrap - hook, 
which formerly 
belonged to the 
late Mr. James 
Payn. We are 
indebted to Mr, 
IL Powell, t, . 
Swinron Street, 
King's Cross, 
W.C., for for- 
warding iffiteiginal from 




Some months ago we reproduced a photo, of the 
" Puffing Hole "of Kilkee> Ireland, Here we h. ve 
a view of a similar phenomenon situated on the coast 
of Durham* between South Shields and Marsden. 
At certain times of the tide, and during stormy 
weather, the water rushes into a cave by an owning 
at the sea level This water, together with an enor- 
mous quantity of imprisoned air* spouts out of a small 
hole at the aj>ex of the cavern to an immense height, 
and, if the sun happens to he shining, a beautiful 
rainbow is farmed. I^ocal tradition, of course, assigns 
the authorship of this phenomenon to his Satanic 
Majesty, the hole being known as the '* Devil's 
Spout. Photo, sem in by Mr* H* KIlringliflEiip. 
East garth, Wtttoe, S* Shields, 

The gentleman seen in this excellent little snap-shot 
is a Co vent Garden porter, and he is carrying the 
fourteen bushel baskets seen in our photo* in the 
execution of his ordinary duties- The baskets make 
a column of some looin., or 16ft. 4m. Add 5ft, ioim 
as the height of the carrier, and you get a walking 

Mr m J j W 


» 1 * ' ' . i»r-»*'-' 

1 ^* 


column 22ft, ain, high. The carrying of these Itaskets 
was not done for a wager. There is mom for specu- 
lation as to what would have lieen the result of the 
sudden advent of a runaway horse, Photo, by Mr. 
W. K Northrop, 36, Kssex Street, Strand, W.C- 


Addressing communi- 
cations to the post just 
for the pleasure of see- 
iilg whether the hard- 
worked authorities will 
l>e equal to deciphering 
them is peihaps not 
very considerate, but 
the officials are so very 
rarely found at fault 
that the laugh is almost 
always on their side. 
Th is pho m>g ra ph i c post - 
rard was delivered at the 
hou se of M r . E . II . K i ng, 
of Belle View House, 
Richmond, Surrey, who 
sent us the card within 
an hour and a half 
after he had posted if 
to himself locally. 

^ -j - -v v- - ■■*■ ■*-^s s<s S 

4 * U . 


/ Original from 




able, and involved 
many painful stings*' 1 
Our photo, shows the 
combs after prolonged 
immersion in water, 
together with some 
pieces of the books* 

The luxurious lit Lie 
mansion seen in the 
accompanying repro* 
duct ion is built of 
bricks exit to alxnit 
one -fourth uf their 
usual size* and the 
windows arc of glasses 
fitted into wooden 
frames in the usual 
manner. There are 
four rooms— cai h with 
plastered walls and 
carpeted Boor — and a 
** practicable '* slair- 
case leads to the 
first and second 

This is probably the largest paper telescope in 
Great Britain, The Ixxly of the instrument is 
entirely covered with thick brown paper, its 
length l>eing 25ft*, and the object glass I2in. in 
diameter. With this apparatus, the mountains 
on the surface of the moon appear with great 
clearness. The group represents a. family study- 
ing astronomy. The girl standing by the side 
of the gentleman looking through the telescope 
holds a Nautical Almanac in her hand, and is 
aiding the observers with details from its valua- 
ble records. 

Says the Rev. \V« JS. Thomas, of The Beeches, 
Ozmaston, Haverfordwest, who forwarded the 
annexed photo, : (t A number of books were put 
away in a box in an attic, and forgotten. When 
the dog-days camej with their sultry heat, the 
windows of the attic were kept wide open, with 
the result that a swarm of wasps took possession 
of the box and built their combs out of the books, 
Ijoring right through many of the stout covers. 
The difficulty of rescuing the remains of the 
books, and dislodging the wasps, was consider- 


flours. The house was built 
!jy Stanley Barlow, a son 
of the Moravian minister 
of Leominster, as a residence 
for bis two cats, who have 
lived in it tor more than a 
year, making good use oi all 
the arrangements for their 
co m lb rt, and a p pa ren tly quite 
proud of their unique little 
domicile. The building is 
4ft. 51 n. high, and 4ft. broad, 
and boasts the name of 
"Tunnicliflc Villa," the 
owner being an enthusiastic 
admirer of the Yorkshire 
kilsman* Photo, sent in 

ahf rMhi A,f * Dc;uh > of Fcrn 

ototor ier - 



Electric Light and Power 
Co., of New Jersey. It 
was given a push by its 
engine about a quarter of 
a mile from the incline, 
which rises steeply from 
the ground lo the first floor 
of the building seen in our 
illustration. Apparently the 
push was too hard, for the 
truck went away at a tre- 
mendous pace, which the 
brakesman was powerless 
to moderate, sailed up the 
incline like a bird, and was 
brought to a standstill by the 
brick wall, out of which St 
"btfttfid " a huge fragment. 
Photo, sent in by Mr. \V\ 
I L Wagner, 105, Watch ung 
Avenue, West O range, N,J. 


This photo, shows the 
muzzle of a 12-inch gun. 

From a Photo, by W. Girling, Strrulbroii, 

The stack shown in the accompanying illustra- 
tion has been standing upon a farm at Strad- 
broke, in Suffolk, for over twenty -one years, and is 
prolably the oldest in England, It is the produce 
of a field of wheat grown in 1S77, when prices 
ruled somewhat high, and the owner declared that 
he would not sell it for less than 30s. per coomb. 
As the market value has never risen to this figure 
he has rigorously kept to his word, and the slack 
remains u nth rash ed to this day. Externally, it 
presents quite an antii |uc appearance, and a glance 
at our illustration will show what havoc the rats 
have made; and every jew years, when the slack 
is re - thatched, the blackened straw contrasts 
strangely with its new root Photo, sent in by 
Mr. E. Bond, The Rookery, Eye, Suffolk, 

The ear seen peering out of a breach in the wall 
of the building in our photo* was loaded with 
twenty tons of coal, and belonged to the Orange 

The curious markings 
are always to be 
observed, to a greater 
or less extent, upon 
firing any gun \ they 
are probably caused 
by the escape of the 
gases past the ''driv- 
ing-band" at the 
moment it leaves the 
muzzle. The "driv- 
ing-band *' is the brass 
ring on the base of the 
projectile, which cuts 
its way through the 
rifling of the gun, 
giving the shot the 
necessary rotary move- 
ment. The regularity 
of each spurt of gas is 
very singular. We are 
indebted for the snap- 

shot to an officer in 

ffiffYOFM l d HI&.fr Navy - 



usual wa>\ When opened, however, the 
yolk was found to Ijc in the form of a cord 
45111. long and Jin. wide. It was irtegu- 
larly coiled up, twisted many times* and 
had a knot firmly tied in the middle. 
Altogether, it was very much like a long 
bootlace of a deep yellow colour/ 1 The 
original is now in the Museum of the 
University of Melbourne* 

Here is an amusing snap- shot of a boy 
hanging head downwards from the roof 
of a summer-house. From the expression 
of delirious joy on his face, it is evident 
that the young gentleman finds it difficult 
to maintain his position* We are in- 
debted for the snap-shot to Mrs. FL A. 
1 [ayes, 82, Merrion Square South, 

This odd building stands on the corner of 161 st 
Street and Melrose Avenue, New York City, It is a 
bit over 4ft- in depth, 17ft. frontage, and one and 
a -half storeys high, with a basement and sub- basement 
built under !he broad sidewalk, extending to the curb. 
The house i l self is of wood, on a steel frame, and has 
a slate roof. Its owner is an eccentric tailor, who 
lives and carries on his trade l>elow the street. The 
interior consists of a small show-room, a st fire room, 
and spiral iron stairway going down to the "lower 
regions." The up|>er storey seems to have been con- 
structed merely as a finishing touch* It is reached 
by an iron ladder from the store -room. The entire 
construction, appointments, and fittings are very 
ingenious, and are all the ideas of the owner. 
The story of the house is that the original lot w r as cut 
away in opening the avenue, save only the few Jeet 
now occupied by the building. A controversy arose 
between the tailor and the owner of the adjoining 
property regarding the disposal of the small strip, and 
the tailor becoming enraged because his neighbour 
would neither sell his property nor pay the price the 
knight of the shears demanded, built this odd structure 
out of spite. The photo, was taken just at the com- 
pletion of the building, and heft ire the street had been 
fully pavecL It shows, however, the dimensions of 
the building, and also the construction under the 
street, etc. Photo* sent in by Mr. W. R. Yard, 
156, Fifth Avenue, New York City. 

We have heard much of 
the vagaries of the break- 
fast egg of commerce, but 
the egg which contained 
the extraordinary yolk seen 
in the annexed photo* must 
assuredly have been quite 
1 put r»f tin- roiiiuion run. 
We will let Dr. James T. 
Mitchell, of 15* Raglan 
Street* South RaDarat, 
Victoria, who sent us the 
photo*, tell the story. 
" The ph;no.," he says, 
" shows the yolk of a 
pullet's egg, which was 
trailed for breakfast in the 

3 y Google 

Original from 

/Vom a Vhoto- 



by Google 

Original from 


\Sm page 2 5*-} 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 


MARCH, 1899. 

No. 99. 

Round the Fire. 


(As Addressed to Major Merivale, Inspector of Prisons.) 

By A. Con an Doyle. 

TOLD my story when I was 
taken, and no one would listen 
to me. Then I told it again 
at the trial— the whole thing 
absolutely as it happened, 
without so much as a word 
added. I set it all out truly, so help m6 
God, all that Lady Mannering said and 
did, and then all that I had said and done, 
just as it occurred. And what did I get for 
it? " The prisoner put forward a rambling 
and inconsequential statement, incredible in 
its details, and unsupported by any shred of 
corroborative evidence." That was what 
one of the London .papers said, and others 
let it pass as if I had made no defence at all. 
And yet, with my own eyes I saw Lord 
Mannering murdered, and I am as guiltless 
of it as any man upon the jury that 
tried me. 

Now, sir, you are there to receive the 
petitions of prisoners. It all lies with you. 
All I ask is that you read it — just read it — 
and then that you make an inquiry or two 
about the private character of this Lady 
Mannering, if she still keeps the name that 
she had three years ago, when to my sorrow 
and ruin I came to meet her. You could 
use a private inquiry agent or a good lawyer, 
and you would soon learn enough to show 
you that my story is the true one. Think of 
the glory it would ba to you to have all the 
papers saying that there would have been a 
shocking miscarriage of justice if it had not 
been for your perseverance and intelligence ! 
That must be your reward, since I am a poor 
man and can offer you nothing. But if you 
don't do it, may you never lie easy in your 
bed again ! May no night pass that you are 
not haunted by the thought of the man who 
rots in gaol because you have not done the 
duty which you are paid to do ! But you 
will do it, sir, I know. Just make one or 
two inquiries, and you will soon find which 
way the wind blows. Remember, also, that 

Yd. xvij — 31 Copyright, 1899. by CI 

the only person who profited by the crime 
was herself, since it changed her from an un- 
happy wife to a rich young widow. There's 
the end of the string in your hand, and you 
only have to follow it up and see where it 
leads to. 

Mind you, sir, I make no complaint as far 
as the burglary goes. I don't whine about 
what I have deserved, and so far I have had no 
more than I have deserved. Burglary it was, 
right enough, and my three years have gone 
to pay for it. It was shown at the trial that 
I had had a hand in the Merton Cross 
business, and did a year for that, so my story 
had the less attention on that account. A 
man with a previous conviction never gets a 
really fair trial. I own to the burglary, but 
when it comes to the murder which brought 
me a lifer — any judge but Sir James might 
have given me the gallows— then I tell you 
that I had nothing to do with it, and that I 
am an innocent man. And now I'll take 
that night, the 13th of September, 1894, and 
I'll give you just exactly what occurred, and 
may God's hand strike me down if I go one 
inch over the truth. 

I had been at Bristol in the summer look- 
ing for work, and then I had a notion that I 
might get something at Portsmouth, for I was 
trained as a skilled mechanic, so I came 
tramping my way across the south of England, 
and doing odd jobs as I went. I was trying 
all I knew to keep off the cross, for I had done 
a year in Exeter Gaol, and I had had enough 
of visiting Queen Victoria. But it's cruel hard 
to get work when once the black mark is 
against your name, and it was all I could do 
to keep soul and body together. At last, after 
ten days of wood-cutting and stone-breaking 
on starvation pay, I found myself near Salis- 
bury with a couple of shillings in my pocket, 
and my boots and my patience clean wore out. 
There's an ale-house called " The Willing 
Mind," which stands on the road between 
Bland fo/d and Salisbury, and it was there th^t 

corgc Newncs, Limited, 



night that I engaged a bed. I was sitting alone 
in the tap-room just about dosing time, when 
the innkeeper — Allen his name was- came 
beside me and began yarning about the neigh- 
bours. He was a man that liked to talk and 
to have someone to listen to his talk, so I sat 
there smoking and drinking a mug of ale 
which he had stood me ; and I took no great 
interest in what he said until he began to talk 
(as the devil would have it) about the riches 
of Mannering Hall. 

I said nothing, but I listened, and as luck 
would have it he would always come back to 
this one subject 

** He was a miser young, so you can think 
what he is now in his age," said he. *' Well* 
he's had some good out of his money/ 5 

" What good can he have had if he does 
not spend it ? M said I. 

u Well, it bought him the prettiest wife in 
England, and that was some good that he 
got out of it. She thought she would have 


"Meaning the large house on the right 
before I came to the village ? " said I. " The 
one that stands in its own park ? " 

" Exactly/' said he — and I am giving all our 
talk so that you may know that I am telling 
you the truth and hiding nothing. "The 
long white house with the pillars," said he, 
" At the side of the Blandford Road." 

Now I had looked at it as I passed, and ft 
had crossed my mind, as such thoughts will, 
that it was a very easy house to get into with 
that great row of ground windows and glass 
doors. I had put the thought away from me, 
and now here was this landlord bringing it 
back with his talk about thy riches within. 

the spending of it, but she knows the 
difference now." 

"Who was she, then?" I asked, just for 
the sake of something to say, 

" She was nobody at all until the old Lord 
made her his Lady," said he. " She came 
from up London way, and some said that 
she had been on the stage there, but nobody 
knew. The old Lord was away for a year, 
and when he came home he brought a young 
wife back with him, and there she has been 
ever since. Stephens, the butler, did tell me 
once that slifri^jnealtfrciilight of the house 

when l/Hn-E^Tra^ilNG^ 1 with he J 
husbands mean and aggravatin ways, and 


2 45 

what with her loneliness — for he hates to see 
a visitor within his- doors ; and what with his 
bitter words — for he has a tongue like a 
hornet's sting, her life all went out of her, 
and she became a white, silent creature, 
moping about the country lanes. Some say 
that she loved another man, and that it was 
just the riches of the old Lord which tempted 
her to be false to her lover, and that now 
she is eating her heart out because she has 
lost the one without being any nearer to the 
other, for she might be the poorest woman 
in the parish for all the money that she has 
the handling of." 

Well, sir, you can imagine that it did not 
interest me very much to hear about the 
quarrels between a Lord and a Lady. What 
did it matter to me if she hated the sound of 
his voice, or if he put every indignity upon 
her in the hope of breaking her spirit, and 
spoke to her as he would never have dared 
to speak to one of his servants ? The land- 
lord told me of these things, and of many 
more like them, but they passed out of my 
mind, for they were no concern of mine. But 
what I did want to hear was the form in 
which IxDrd Mannering kept his riches. Title- 
deeds and stock certificates are but paper, 
and more danger than profit to the man who 
takes them. But metal and stones are worth 
a risk. And then, as if he were answering my 
very thoughts, the landlord told me of Lord 
Mannering's great collection of gold medals, 
that it was the most valuable in the world, 
and that it was reckoned that if they were put 
into a sack the strongest man in the parish 
would not be able to raise them. Then his 
wife called him, and he and I went to our 

I am not arguing to make out a case for 
myself, but I beg you, sir, to bear all the 
facts in your mind, and to ask yourself 
whether a man could be more sorely tempted 
than I was. I make bold to say that there 
are few who could have held out against it. 
There I lay on my bed that night, a desperate 
man without hope or work, and with my last 
shilling in my pocket. I had tried to be 
honest, and honest folk had turned their 
backs upon me. They taunted me for theft ; 
and yet they pushed me towards it. I was 
caught in the stream and could not get out. 
And then it was such a chance : the great 
house all lined with windows, the golden 
medals which could so easily be melted 
down. It was like putting a loaf before a 
starving man and expecting him not to eat it. 
I fought against it for a time, but it was no use. 
At last I sat up on the side of my bed, and I 

swore that that night I should either be a rich 
man and able to give up crime for ever, or 
that the irons should be on my wrists once 
more. Then I slipped on my clothes, and, 
having put a shilling on the table — for the 
landlord had treated me well, and I did not 
wish to cheat him - I passed out through the 
window into the garden of the inn. 

There was a high wall round this garden, 
and I had a job to get over it, but once on 
the other side it was all plain sailing. I did 
not meet a soul upon the road, and the iron 
gate of the avenue was open. No one was 
moving at the lodge. The moon was 
shining, and I could see the great house 
glimmering white through an archway of 
trees. I walked up it for a quarter of a 
mile or so, until I was at the edge of the 
drive, where it ended in a broad, gravelled 
space before the main door. There I 
stood in the shadow and looked at the 
long building, with a full moon shining in 
every window and silvering the high stone 
front. I crouched there for some time, and 
I wondered where I should find the easiest 
entrance. The corner window of the side 
seemed to be the one which was least over- 
looked, and a screen of ivy hung heavily 
over it. My best chance was evidently 
there. I worked my way under the trees to 
the back of the house, and then crept along 
in the black shadow of the building. A dog 
barked and rattled his chain, but I stood 
waiting until he was quiet, and then I stole 
on once more until I came to the window 
which I had chosen. 

It is astonishing how careless they are in 
the country, in places far removed from 
large towns, where the thought of burglars 
never enters their heads. I call it setting 
temptation in a poor man's way when he 
puts his hand, meaning no harm, upon a 
door, and finds it swing open before him. 
In this case it was not so bad as that, but the 
window was merely fastened with the ordinary 
catch, which I opened with a push from the 
blade of my knife. I pulled up the window 
as quickly as possible, and then I thrust the 
knife through the slit in the shutter and 
prized it open. They were folding shutters, 
and I shoved them before me and walked 
into the room. 

" Good evening, sir ! You are very wel- 
come ! " said a voice. 

I've had some starts in my life, but never 
one to come up to that one. There, in the 
opening of the shutters, within reach of my 
arm, was standing a woman with a small 

iLSuwajc %P$j fW£JflS in her hand, She 



was tall and straight and slender, with a 
beautiful white Face that might have been 
cut out of clear marble, but her hair and 
eyes were as black as night. She was dressed 
in some sort of white dressing-gown which 
flowed down to her feet, and what with this 
robe and what with her face, it seemed as if 

with which I had opened the shutter. I was 
unshaven and grinned froin a week on the 
roads. Altogether, there are few people who 
would have cared to face me alone at one in 
the morning ; but this woman, if I had been 
her lover meeting her by appointment, could 
not have looked upon me with a more wel- 

*t *■ r^W 


a spirit from above was standing in front of 
me. My knees knocked together, and 1 held 
on to the shutter with one hand to give me 
support. I should have tamed and run 
away if I had had the strength, but I could 
only just stand and stare at her* 

She soon brought me back to myself once 

" Don't be frightened !" said she, and they 
were strange words for the mistress of a 
house to have to use to a burglar- '* I saw 
you out of my bedroom window when you 
were hiding under those trees, so I slipped 
downstairs, and then I heard you at the 
window* I should have opened it for you if 
you had waited, but you managed it yourself 
just as I came up," 

I still held in my hand the long clasp-knife 


coming eye. She laid her hand upon 
sleeve and drew me into the room* 

u What's the meaning of this, ma'am ? 
Don't get trying any little games upon me," 
said I, in my roughest way — and I can put it 
on rough when I like, " It'll be the worse 
for you if you play me any trick," I added, 
showing her my knife* 

" I will play you no trick," said she, " On 
the contrary, I am your friend, and I wish to 
help you," 

" Excuse me, ma'am, but I find it hard to 
believe that," said I, "Why should you 
wish to help me ? J1 

" I have my own reasons," said she ; and 
then suddenly, with those black eyes blazing 
out of her white face: "Its because I hate him, 
hate him, 'f^fefT^MRHl^^^ •" 



I remembered what the landlord had told 
me, and 1 did understand, I looked at her 
Ladyship's face, and I knew that I could trust 
her. She wanted to revenge herself upon 
her husband, She wanted to hit him where 
it would hurt him most — upon the pocket. 
She hjited him so that she would even lower 
her pride to take such a man as me into her 
confidence if she could gain her end by 
doing so, I've hated some folk in my 
time, but I don't think I ever understood 
what, hate was until 1 saw that woman's 
face in the light of the taper* 

1 You'll trust me now ? ,T said she, with 
another coaxing touch upon my sleeve. 

i{ Yes, your Ladyship." 

" You know me, then ? " 

" I can guess who you are-' 3 

" I daresay my wrongs are the talk of the 

"No, your Ladyship." 

" Shut the shutter behind you. Then no 
one can see the light. You are quite safe. 
The servants all sleep in the other wing. I 
can show you where all the most valuable 
things are. You cannot carry them all, so 
we must pick the best." 

The room in which I found myself was 
long and low, with many rugs and skins 
scattered about on a polished wood floor. 
Small cases stood here and there, and the 
walls were decorated with spears and swords 
and paddles, and other things which find 
their way into museums. There were some 
queer clothes, too, which had been brought 
from savage countries, and the lady took 
down a large leather sack- bag from among 

"This sleeping-sack will do," said she. 


county, But what does he care for that? 
He only cares for one thing in the whole 
world, and that you can take from him this 
night Have you a bag ? " 

Digitized by Google 

" Now come with me, and I will show you 
where the medals are. 1 ' 

It was like a dream to me to think that 
this tall, white woman was the lady of the 




house, and that she was lending me a hand 
to rob her own home, 1 could have burst 
out laughing at the thought of it, and yet 
there was something in that pale face of hers 
which stopped my laughter and turned me 
cold and serious. She swept on ir front of 
me like a spirit, with the green taper in her 
hand, and I walked behind with my sack 
until we came to a door at the end of this 
museum. It was locked, but the key was in 
it, and she led me through. 

The room beyond was a small one, hung 
all round with curtains which had pictures 
on them, It was the hunting of a deer that 
was painted on it, as I remember, and in the 
flicker of that light you'd have sworn that 
the dogs and the horses were streaming 
round the walls. The only other thing in 
the room was a row of cases made of walnut, 
with brass ornaments. They had glass tops, 
and beneath this glass I saw the long lines 
of those gold medals, some of them as big as 
a plate and half an inch thick, all resting 
upon red velvet and glowing and gleaming 
in the darkness. My fingers were just 
itching to be at them, and I slipped my 
knife under the lock of 
one of the eases to wrench 
it open. 

" Wait a moment*" said 
she, laying her hand upon 
my arm, " You might do 
better than this." 

"I am very well 
satisfied , ma'am," said I, 
"and much obliged to 
your Ladyship for kind 

"You can do better," 
she repeated. " Would 
not golden sovereigns be 
worth more to you than 
these things?" 

"Why, yes," said L 
"That's best of all." 

" Well," said she, " He 
sleeps just above our 
head. It is but one short 
staircase. There is a tin 
box with money enough 
to fill this bag under his 

w How can I get it with- 
out waking him?" 

"What matter if he 
does wake ? " She looked 
very hard at me as she 
spoke, "You could keep 
him from calling out," 

" No, no, ma'am, 111 have none of that." 
"Just as you like," said she. "I thought 
that you were a stout-hearted sort of man by 
your appearance, but I see that I made a 
mistake. If you are afraid to run the risk 
of one old man, then of course you cannot 
have the gold which is under his bed. You 
are the best judge of your own business, but 
I should think that you would do better at 
some other trade." 

" Til not have murder on my conscience." 
41 You could overpower him without harm- 
ing him, I never said anything of murder. 
The money lies under the bed. But if you 
are faint-hearted, it is better that you should 
not attempt it' 5 

She worked upon me so, partly with 
her scorn and partly wilh tins mem-v which 
she held before my eyes, that I believe 1 
should have yielded and taken my chances 
upstairs, had it tiot been that 1 saw her eyes 
following the struggle within me in such a 
crafty, malignant fashion, that it was evident 
she was bent upon making me the tool of 
her revenge, and that she would leave me 
no choice but to do the old man an injury 


ST I SHE wmSf'fiREp," 




or to be captured by him. She felt suddenly 
that she was giving herself away, and she 
changed her face to a kindly, friendly smile, 
but it was too late, for I had had my 

M I will not go upstairs," said I. " I have 
all I want here/' 

She looked her contempt at me, and there 
never was a face which could look it plainer. 

" Very good. 
You can take 
these medals, I 
should be glad if 
you would begin 
at this end. I 
suppose they will 
all be the same 
value when they 
are melted down, 
but these are the 
ones which are 
the rarest, and, 
therefore, the 
most precious to 
him, It is not 
necessary to 
break the locks. 
If you press that 
brass knob you 
will find that 
there is a secret 
spring. So! 
Take that small 
one first— it is 
the very apple 
of his eye." 

She had 
opened one of 
the cases, and 
the beautiful 
things all lay ex- 
posed before me. 
I had my. hand 
upon the one 
which she had 
pointed out, 
when suddenly a 
change came 
over her face, 
and she held up 
one finger as a 
warning. u Hist 
is that?" 

Far away in the silence of the house we 
heard a low, dragging, shuffling sound, and 
the distant tread of feet. She closed and 
fastened the case in an instant. 

"It's my husband I " she whispered. 
" All right. Don't be alarmed. I'll 

she whispered. " What 

arrange it. Here ! Quick, behind the 
tapestry ! JJ 

She pushed me behind the painted curtains 
upon the wall, my empty leather bag still in 
my hand. Then she took her taper and 
walked quickly into the room from which we 
had come. From where I stood I could see 
her through the open door. 

* 4 Is that you, Robert ? " she cried. 

The light of a 
candle shone 
through the door 
of the museum, 
and the shuffling 
steps came 
nearer and 
nearer. Then I 
saw a face in the 
doorway, a great, 
heavy face, all 
lines and creases, 
with a huge 
curving nose and 
a pair of gold 
glasses fixed 
across it He 
had to throw his 
head back to see 
through the 
glasses, and that 
great nose thrust 
out in front of 
him like the 
beak of some 
sort of fowl. He 
was a big man, 
very tall and 
burly, so that in 
his loose dress- 
ing - gown his 
figure seemed to 
fill up the whole 
doorway. He 
had a pile of 
grey, curling hair 
all round his 
head, but his 
face was clean- 
shaven. His 
mouth was thin 
and small and 
prim, hidden away under his long, masterful 
nose. He stood there, holding the candle 
in front of him, and looking at his wife with 
a queer , malicious gleam in his eyes. It only 
needed that one look to tell me that he was 
as fond of her as she was of him. 

M HowSrichfti'fl'frilion asked, "Some new 
to, 1!IWffiSlW©PWl£WJ3Wn b 7 wandering 




about the house ? Why don't you go to 

" I could not sleep," she answered. She 
spoke languidly and wearily. If she was an 
actress once, she had not forgotten her calling. 

" Might I suggest," said he, in the same 
mocking kind of voice, "that a good con- 
science is an excellent aid to sleep ? " 

"That cannot be true," she answered, 
"for you sleep very well." 

" I have only one thing in my life to be 
ashamed of," said he, and his hair bristled up 
with anger until he looked like an old cocka- 
too. " You know best what that is. It is a 
mistake which has brought its own punish- 
ment with it." 

"To me as well as to you. Remember that ! " 

" You have very little to whine about. It 
was I who stooped and you who rose." 

" Rose ! " 

" Yes, rose. I suppose you do not deny 
that it is promotion to exchange the music- 
hall for Mannering Hall. Fool that I w r as 
ever to take you out of your true sphere ! " 

"If you think so, why do you not 
separate ? " 

"Because private misery is better than 
public humiliation. Because it is easier to 
suffer for a mistake than to own to it. 
Because also I like to keep you in my sight, 
and to know that you cannot go back to him." 

" You villain ! You cowardly villain ! " 

"Yes, yes, my lady. I know your secret 
ambition, but it shall never be while I live, 
and if it happens after my death I will at 
least take care that you go to him as a 
beggar. You and dear Edward will never 
have the satisfaction of squandering my 
savings, and you may make up your mind 'to 
that, my lady. Why are those shutters and 
the window open ? " 

" I found the night very close." 

" It is not safe. How do you know that 
some tramp rtiay not be outside ? Are you 
aware that my collection of medals is worth 
more than any similar collection in the 
world ? You have left the door open also. 
What is there to prevent anyone from rifling 
the cases ? " 

" I was here." 

" I know you were. I heard you moving 
about in the medal room, and that was why 
I came down. What were you doing? " 

" Looking at the medals. What else 
should I be doing ? " 

"This curiosity is something new." He 
looked suspiciously at her and moved on 
towards the inner room, she walking beside 

It was at this moment that I saw some- 
thing which startled me. I had laid my 
clasp-knife open upon the top^of one of the 
cases, and there it lay in full view. She saw 
it before he did, and with a woman's cunning 
she held her taper out so that the light of it 
came between Lord Mannering's eyes and 
the knife. Then she took it in her left hand 
and held it against her gown out of his sight. 
He looked about from case to case — I could 
have put my hand at one time upon his long 
nose — but there was nothing to show that 
the medals had been tampered with, and so, 
still snarling and grumbling, he shuffled off 
into the other room once more. 

And now I have to speak of what I heard 
rather than of what I saw, but I swear to 
you, as I shall stand some day before my 
Maker, that what I say is the truth. 

When they passed into the outer room I 
saw him lay his candle upon the corner of 
one of the tables, and he sat himself down, 
but in such a position that he was just out of 
my sight. She moved behind him, as I 
could tell from the fact that the light of 
her taper threw his long, lumpy shadow 
upon the floor in front of him. Then 
he began talking about this man whom 
he called Edward, and every word 
that he said was like a blistering drop of 
vitriol. He spoke low, so that I could not 
hear it all, but from what I heard I should 
guess that she would as soon have been 
lashed with a whip. At first she said some 
hot words in reply, but then she was silent, 
and he went on and on in that cold, mocking 
voice of his, nagging and insulting and 
tormenting, until I wondered that she could 
bear to stand there in silence and listen to it. 
Then suddenly I heard him say, in a sharp 
voice, " Come from behind me ! Leave go 
of my collar ! What ! would you dare to 
strike me? " Ther6 was a sound like a blow, 
just a soft sort of thud, and then I heard 
him cry out, " My God, it's blood ! " He 
shuffled with his feet as if he was getting up. 
and then I heard another blow, and he cried 
out, " Oh, you she-devil ! " and was quiet, 
except for a dripping and splashing upon the 

I ran out from behind my curtain at that, 
and rushed into the other room, shaking all 
over with the horror of it. The oldman had 
slipped down in the chair, and his dressing- 
gown had rucked up until he looked as if he 
had a monstrous hump to his back. His 
head, with the gold glasses still fixed on his 
nose, was lolling over upon one side, and his 
little mouth v as open just like a dead fish. 



I could not see where the blood was coming 
from, but I could still hear it drumming upon 
the floor. She stood behind him with the 
candle shining full upon her face. Her lips 
were pressed together and her eyes shining, 
and a touch of colour had come into each of 
her cheeks, It just wanted that to make her 
the most beauti- 
ful woman I had 
ever seen in my 

"YouVe done 
it now!" said I. 

"Yes/ 1 said 
she, in her quiet 
way, "I've done 
it now/ 1 

"What are 
you going to 
do?" I asked. 
"They'll have 
you for murder 
as sure as fate," 

"Never fear 
about me. I 
have nothing to 
live for, and it 
does not matter. 
(Jive me a hand 
to set him 
straight in the 
chair. It is 
horrible to see 
him like this !" 

I did so, 
though it turned 
me cold all over 
to touch him. 
Some of his 
blood came on 
my hand and 
sickened me. 

" Now," said she, "you may as well have 
the medals as anyone else. Take them and 

11 1 don't want them, I only want to get 
away. I was never mixed up with a business 
like this before," 

" Nonsense ! n said she. '* You came for 
the medals, and here they are at your mercy. 
Why should you not have them ? There is 
no one to prevent you," 

I held the bag still in my hand. She 
opened the case, and between us we threw a 
hundred or so of the medals into it They 
were all from the one case, but I could not 
bri ig myself to wait for any more. Then I 
made for the window, for the very air of this 
house seemed to [>oIson me after wh::t I had 

^^ " SH 

seen and heard. As I looked back, I saw 
her standing there, tall and graceful, with the 
li^ht in her hand, just as I had seen her first. 
She waved good-bye, and I waved back at 
her and sprang out into the gravel drive. 

I thank God that I can lay my hand upon 
my heart and say that I have never done a 

murder, but per- 
haps it would be 
different if I had 
been able to read 
that woman's 
mind and 
thoughts. There 
might have been 
two bodies in 
the room instead 
of one if I could 
have seen be- 
hind that last 
smile of hers. 
But I thought of 
nothing but of 
getting safely 
away, and it 
never entered 
my head how she 
might be fixing 
the rope round 
my neck, I had 
not taken five 
steps out from 
the window skirt- 
ing down the 
shadow of the 
house in the 
way that I had 
come, when I 
heard a scream 
that might 
have raised 
the parish, and 
then another and another. 

" Murder! "she cried, "Murder! Murder! 
Help ! " and her voice rang out in the quiet 
of the night - time and sounded over the 
whole country-side, Tt went through my head, 
that dreadful cry* In an instant lights began 
to move and windows to fly up, not only in 
the house behind me, but at the lodge and 
in the stables in front Like a frightened 
rabbit 1 bolted down the drive, but I heard 
the clang of the gate being shut before I 
could reach it. Then I hid my bag of 
medals under some dry fagots, and 1 tried 
to get away across the park, but someone 
saw me in. the moonlight, and presently I 
had half-a-dozen of them with dogs upon 
myUHWffiSITlr" QfcWIfcWGAWvn among the 




brambles, but those dogs were too many for 
me, and I was glad enough when the men 
came up and prevented me from being torn 
into pieces. They seized me, and dragged 
me back to the room from which I had come. 

" Is this the man, your Ladyship ? " asked 
the oldest of them— the same whom I found 
out afterwards to be the butler. 

She had been bending over the body, with 
her handkerchief to her eyes, and now she 
turned upon me with the face of a fury. Oh, 
what an actress that woman was ! 

" Yes, yes, it is the very man," she cried. 
" Oh, you villain, you cruel villain, to treat 
an old man so ! " 

There was a man there who seemed to be 
a village constable. He laid his hand upon 
my shoulder. 

" What do you say to that ? " said he. 

" It was she who did it," I cried, pointing 
at the woman, whose eyes never flinched 
before mine. 

" Come ! come ! Try another ! " said the 
constable, and one of the men-servants struck 
at me with his fist 

" I tell you that I saw her do it. She 
stabbed him twice with a knife. She first 
helped me to rob him, and then she murdered 

The footman tried to strike me again, but 
she held up her hand. 

"Do not hurt him," said she. "I think 
that his punishment may safely be. left to the 

"Ill see to that, your Ladyship," said the 
constable. " Your Ladyship actually saw the 
crime committed, did you not ? " 

" Yes, yes, I saw it with my own eyes. It 
was horrible. We heard the noise and we 
came down. My poor husband was in front. 
The man had one of the cases open, and was 
filling a black leather bag which he held in 
his hand. He rushed past us, and my hus- 
band seized him. There was a struggle, and 
he stabbed him twice. There you can see 
the blood upon his hands. If I am not 
mistaken, his knife is still in Lord Manner- 
ing's body." 

" Look at the blood upon her hands ! " I 

"She has been holding up his Lordship's 
head, you lying rascal," said the butler. 

"And here's the very sack her Ladyship 

spoke of," said the constable, as a groom 
came in with the one which I had dropped 
in my flight. "And here are the medals 
inside it. That's good enough for me. We 
will keep him safe here to-night, and to- 
morrow the inspector and I can take him 
into Salisbury." 

" Poor creature," said the woman. " For 
my own part, I forgive him any injury which 
he has done me. Who knows what tempta- 
tion may have driven him to crime? His 
conscience and the law will give him punish- 
ment enough without any reproach of mine 
rendering it more bitter." 

I could not answer I tell you, sir, I could 
not answer, so taken aback was I by the 
assurance of the woman. And so, seeming 
by my silence to agree to all that she had 
said, I was dragged away by the butler and 
the constable into the cellar, in which they 
locked me for the night. 

There, sir, I have told you the whole story 
of the events which led up to the murder of 
Lord Mannering by his wife upon the 
night of September the 14th, in the year 
1894. Perhaps you will put my statement 
on one side as the constable did at Mannering 
Towers, or the judge afterwards at the county 
assizes. Or perhaps you will see that there 
is the ring of truth in what I say, and you 
will follow it up, and so make your name for 
ever as a man who does not grudge personal 
trouble where justice is to be done. I have 
only you to look to, sir, and if you will clear 
my name of this false accusation, then I will 
worship you as one man never yet worshipped 
another. But if you fail me, then I give you 
my solemn promise that I will rope myself up, 
this day month, to the bar of my window, and 
from that time on I will come to plague you 
in your dreams if ever yet one man was able 
to come back and to haunt another. What 
I ask you to do is very simple. Make 
inquiries about this woman, watch her, learn 
her past history, find out what use she is 
making of the money which has come to her, 
and whether there is not a man Edward as I 
have stated. If from all this you learn any- 
thing which shows you her real character, or 
which seems to you to corroborate the story 
which I have told you, then I am sure that 
I can rely upon your goodness of heart to 
come to the rescue of an innocent man. 

by Google 

Original from 

A Peep into " Punchy 

Bv J. Holt Schooling, 

[ The Proprietors of "Punch v have given special permission to rt product the accompanying illustrations* This 
is ihe first occasion when a periodical has been enabled to present a selection from Mr* Punch's /anions pages*] 

Part IIL — 1855 to 1859. 

N picking out these pictures sins of omission, I can only hope to do justice 
from Punch one is guided by 
the common wish to gut other 
people to share a pleasure, 
rather than by an acutely 
critical examination of the 
pages of Punch* 

It is pleasant to say, as one turns ovt*r the 


Artfe Ap "JUT Em't m P'luci a-cchex*. Wort 


inm «l*tcm rr n» turn P 4 

i> — BV LEECH, 


leaves of this absolutely unique periodical 
" Look at this, isn't it good ? And there's a 
fine bit by Leech, Here's. a strong cartoon 
by Tenniel — what d'ye think of that? This 
is funny— and look at the clever drawing of 
this one- -isn't Punch fine? And don't you 
wish you had a complete set ? " 

Of course, the difficulty is to decide what to 
show 3 for although one gets into 
these pages as many of the Punch 
pictures as possible, one can show 
here only about three pictures, 
on the average, out of each of r 
the half-yearly volumes of Pitnch, 
and thus there is considerable 
hesitation in the final choice, 
which is made after a process of 
weedmg-out which runs through 
four or five stages of decreasing 
bulk, the first stage of selection 
including ten or twelve times as 
many pictures as are finally 

However, the final choice from 
Mr* Punch's rich store has to be 
made, and in making it with the 
full r«msn<uisness of committing 

to Mr. Flinch and to please my readers who, in 
my fancy, are turning over his pages with me. 

By the way, the present Part of this article 
is remarkable for containing two cartoons 
which are perhaps the masterpieces of John 
Leech and of Sir John Tenniel — I refer to 
Nos. 3 and 20, of which more anon. 

(i lancing at Leech's sketch in No. 1, we 
come to his picture No- 2, which brings home 
to us the horrible mismanagement of the 
War Office during the Crimean War, which 
left our soldiers to endure the Russian 
winter without proper clothing or food — a 
scandal that Mr. Punch handled severely 
in other pictures than that now shown, 

In connection with this graphic picture by 
Leech it is interesting to refer to Mr, Justin 
McCarthy's "History of Our Own Times, " 
where under the heading "A Black Winter" 
the historian narrates some of the almost 
incredible blunders that make this picture 
No. 2 stand out even now as a vivid bit of 
truth and in no way as an exaggeration : — 

The winter [1854-1855] was gloomy at home as 
well as abroad. The news constantly arriving from 
the Crimea told only of devastation can seel by foes 
far more formidable than the Russians — sickness f liad 
weather, had management, , . . . On shore the 
sufferings of the Army were unspeakable. The tents 
were torn from their j>egs and blown away. w , , , 
The hospitals for the sick and wounded at Scutari 
were in a wretchedly disorganized condition. * . * In 
some instances medical stores were left to decay at 
Varna, or were found lying useless in the holds of 
vessels in Balaklava Bay, which were needed for the 
wounded at Scutari. * . * . Great consignments of 
bonis arrived „ and were found \u he all for the left 

»'iii, Jin ' IIeu'] 


Hi "it » U*t 1 ILttn t." 

.vi 1 Go*i in ^ 1 • 1 n B? * * 

!.— A RI-MIMsCK^C 


lUklMi TttlL CKtM£AN 





foot. Mules for the conveyance of stores were con- 
tracted for and delivered, but delivered so that they 
came into the hands of the Russians and not of us. 
Shameful frauds were per pet rated in the instance of 
some of the con tracts for preserved meat. M One 
man's preserved meal/' exclaimed Putuh* with bitter 
humour, '* is another man's poison. ,b ... * 

Happily, we have learned the lesson from 
the miseries of our soldiers here illustrated 
by John Leech ; and in Lord Kitchener's 
recent Nile campaign, home and foreign 
expert opinion is that the very difficult 
problems of supply, transport, and railway 
construction were as well thought out and 
administered as was the actual fighting part 
of that brilliantly successful piece of long- 
headed calculation, which, after three years' 
working out, culminated in the Omdurman 
victory of September 2, 1898. 

The cartoon in No. 3 is a splendid con- 
ception- it is probably Leech's masterpiece 
among his political pictures, The Emperor 
Nicholas L of Russia, whom the united 
public opinion of Europe regarded as the 

author of the Crimean War, 
boasted, in a speech delivered 
shortly before his death, that 
" Russia has two generals 
upon whom she can always 
rely — General Janvier and 
General F^vrier." This 
cynical boast of Nicholas 
alluded to the severity of the 
Russian climate during the 
months of January and Feb- 
ruary, upon which the Russian 
Emperor relied to greatly re- 
duce by death the forces allied 
against him in the Crimea, 

On March 2, 1 855, Nicholas 
died of pulmonary apoplexy, 
after an attack of influenza, — 
his u General Fhvrier" had 
turned tra itor* Leech *s ge n i u s 
seized the chance, and on 
March 10, 1S55* Punch pub- 
lished the picture now shown 
in No, 3. 

General February [Death in 
a Russian General's uniform] 
places his deadly hand on the 
Emperor's breast, and the icy 
cold of the Russian winter — 
the Emperors trusted ally 
kills the very man who lately 
had uttered the boast just 

The splendid genius of 
Leech was doubtless quick- 
ened by Leech's awn feelings at 
that time, for we in this country were enraged 
to know of the unnecessary sufferings of our 
troops during the Crimean winter ; and Leech 
surpassed himself when he drew this powerful 
and dignified picture — one of the most famous 
cartoons that Punch has ever published. 



4.-A* MVE^W^MI£W6*W-b. -■«■ 




£o t l>; '. " I TILL TTTV HI 'Eo'l HiPlM-J IIV IT MQTE I' 

iJi "I iit rr"j at no Epo, tm Sf»rw !— 1 c*m ■»■■ 'u £lii !"' 

II.— A l J ET ije*;. lE^. 

been calling attention to the necessity for 
military reform, and in the issue for May 19, 
1855, there is a cartoon entitled * l Military 

Reform — A Noble Beginning. H. R. H, 
P, A, Resigning his Field-Marshal's Baton 
and Pay. J? 

The verses accompanying this cartoon 
are : — 

A cmiikerworm was gnawing at the heart of England's Oak, 
And palsy threatened its great arms that braved the thunder* 

stroke ; ! 

[is glorious crown was fading* and our Toes twgan lo hrjot, 
" Heboid the Oak is rotting and the a at i* ill its root/ 1 

Aristocratic vermin did office* infect* 

Not the Best men t but such men as lackey C4all the Beflt a 

Men with the very richest kind of fluid in their veins, 

Hut men whose little head* inclosed exceedingly poor brains. 

Etc, tic, etc. 

" That cry," said he {Prince Albert.— J, H, SJ " is just ; it is a 

shame and a disgrace 
That any hut a proper man should t>e in any place X 
An end rnus»t to this wrong be pui i there is no doubt of that ; 
Someone ihe movement must begin ^niyse If shall bell the c**t + " 

\ Here are four verses describing how Prince Albert publicly 
resigned his Field -Marshal's Mion and Pay, as not being 
entitled to them.— J, H. ^] 

The concluding verse being :— 

Then every Lord incapable, and every booby Duke, 
Accepted at their Prince'* hands a lesson and rebuke ; 
They cast away their offices ; their places up they threw, 
And England's Oak revived ;l-;um Lit id Kn^land throve luicw. 

Punch has never hesitated to use plain 
speech, and as Punch is essentially an ex- 
press of public opinion as well as a leader 
of it, plain words are the best sort of words 
for Mr. Punch to use, being, as he is, a 
powerful mouthpiece of an essentially 
plain-speaking nation, 

"There is a funny little sketch in 
No. ii, and in No, 12 we have a very 


AfaLlr ywi*j Or*i (i*** u ntw Jititnt rs Ji*nj*rri "' Worm |uij U n* « 1R 

rsit t.ip, Si*r T*iii'i *« auf*wi>«cr Srcpjiifl^ lUu. fcervitP Cw«tr Jm 

1j. -BY I.KRCK* 



Cp Another Bottle of Fine Old Smote 


VoL xvii-33. 



i3 57 < 

Ljood eartiKin showing I.nrd l\ilmcr- 
ston, who was Prime Minister in 1857, 
as The State Butler taking out 
"Another Bottle of Fine Old Smoke'" 







o, trj onr Falrat Aallguotte Collar, •faicfa wMh Ml« ti 
t the atnab «f Ltiadn ia pcrfatit Wetj •£ all boan of lb* da/ K 

Art i 



lo mrn-arf,. of Ut burilft tUH tad a» wanaflta 
UK frip ■ I 

TH[ ltC4T MUlCuLMI lumjUf 1* THf klETHOKll*, 
™Jd frt fcbd n I be fit* ainaalf btfon aa Aild nil t*« 
sit uuprtMHn apo* fan ivtultd f aftiaL TWf tft b*Mr POitW, 

Et*4tfitly fttuddad with Lba fffaarpeal flpikr*, 

cQBthLLifif i But wl*rr *^ apaearaiiM wifh parfrot puiUittua 
lb* nmrdcniii ai tacU *►■«* **£«, tTH y djj ja, Lha aa)* fa- 
'- J UwwBtifam. Ffw» fj U , <* ke for «hu 

v^Hrrr, cnon 

«n> o«v 

■ 4. — A HkMJNlXfcNLfc] C1F THE LONDON tiAKHOTIvBS OF 1856. 

labelled " Queen's Speech " from the special 
bin containing Royal Speeches. 

Notice that Palmerston has in his mouth 
[at the right corner] the straw that was so 
often seen in the Punch portraits of him* 

This insertion of a straw in Lord Palmer- 
ston's mouth is one of Punch's fancy touches, 


■■Wow. fro, Yuowo— wau * 11 too tTABiaa *ti fc 
** Wtot woOUm'* 1 trill if TI* 1 / Mn ru t*mt" 

Ij.— THE HQKSE. LiUAhDi, 1857. 

of which the Gladstone collar, the exag- 
gerated lankiness of Mr r Balfour, the 
elephantine bulk of Sir William Harcourt, 
etc, are other and more familiar examples to 
us of the present day. Mr. Sptelmann refers 
to this Palm erst on straw in his "History of 
Punch T and writes : 

Digitized by C-OOQK 

Falmerston, of course, never did chew straws ; but 
one was adopted as a synilxjl lo show his c<x.A and 
sportive nature. Many a time has that straw formed 
the topic of serious discussion by serious writers. . « . 
However, it is certain that the sprig of straw, which 
really referred only to bis pure devotion to the Turf, 
from 1S15 onwards, was first used in 1S51 , . , and, 
as a matter of fact, added not a little to Palmerston's 
popularity, as not only representing Ifce Turf, but a 
Sam Wetter-tike calmness, alertness, and good- 

No. 13 is by Leech, and in No. 14 we 
have a reminder of the parroting- terror of 

Oe*t. "Oa, ii 1 - A pp *«4T P° IQC F«d "■ Honi* o^ t * 
Aiwr. "Bffw aTDa— Dqb't YnttHii \taf»l" 


the London streets in the year 1856. These 
garrote - robberies, to which Punch made 
several references with a view to their sup- 
pression, were silently committed in the 

r "-f &*** t J » WJ gmfl - fliTt Id* K)(i * zvimt. u ■ LvflTll . 

17,— - 




sL*3n in No, 14, to prevent the grip of the nasty-man 
taking effect upon the windpipe of his victim. 

Glancing at Nos. 15 and 16, we see in No, 17 a girl 
of the period [a.d. 1857] astonishing her old-gentleman 
fellow-passenger by pulling out her eigar-case in the 
railway compartment. Then, ladies preferred cigars, 
but now, as a rule, they smoke cigarettes, 

I& — JW LEKCH. 1 8 56. 

London streets by compressing the 
victim's windpipe until he became 
insensible, The crime was usually 
done at night by three men : the 
fare- stall, or man who walked before 
the intended victim ; the hatk-shili, 
who walked behind the victim ; and 
the actual operator, who was called 
the misty-man. The part of the two 
u stalls" was to conceal the crime, 
give alarm of danger, carry off the 
booty, and facilitate the escape of 
the flash -man. 

Mr. Punch invented the collar 

>9»--A MKKHT IMCIDBttT Of lB$J, 

Nos, 18 and 19 bring us to Tenniel's masterpiece — 
No. 20. This splendid drawing was published as a 
double-page cartoon in Punch on August 22, 1857 ; 
it was suggested to John Tenniel by Shirley Brooks, 
one of Mr. Punch's great stars, who, in 1870, succeeded 
Mark Lemon as Editor. 

This picture is one of the famous "Cawnpore Car- 
toons," in which Tenniel expressed the feelings of 
horror and of revenge which all England experienced 

20.™ ONE OF ^TJbHH "U^^lF-f^ MASTERPIECE l>l Kl 

lilized by ^OOQIC 





at the news ot the trout herons brutalities of 
t he Sepoy m u t i n ee rs, 'I "ho Ca w n pare in assacr e 
of women and children by the order of in- 

" dm rfJt wa ffr J flWfl it j MMiNT pa wfi srft ' 

had not then been relieved by Have- 
lock and Out ram, nor had Delhi been 
re-taken by our men. 

Even now, more than forty years 
since Tennicl drew this avenging Hon 
leaping on the snarling tiger, this pic- 
ture stirs the blood, and the more 
when we recall that Nina Sahib was 
actually asked to go into Cawnpore 
with his guns and men to help old Sir 
Hugh Wheeler against the mutineers. 
Sir Hugh was in command of the 
garrison, and he was seventy -five 
years old when he asked for help 
from the treacherous Dandhu Panth 
— the Nana Sdhib of the most in- 
famous page of the worlds history. 

The next picture, No* 21, was pub- 
lished September 12, 1857, and it 
tells us something of what our men 
d i d t o avenge Ca w n po re. ' Fh e cou nt ry 
was furious for revenge, and our troops 
took it to the full after they had 
looked down the well by the trees in 
the garden at Cawnpore, and had seen 
that long pit choked up with massa- 
cred Englishwomen and children, 

A soldier who was there, and who 
had seen things [there is no name 
lor the things he saw], once told me 
that they would pile up a heap of 
Sepoys dead or wounded, pour oil over them, 
and then sut fire to the pile our troops were 
simply mad with the lust of revenge, and no 
power on earth could have held them back, 
ami one could not blame them after hearing, 


S3.— HEAVEN HJUblu! 185S. 

famous Nina Sahib had occurred in the June 
of 1857, and when Punch published this 
picture, we had just sent off thirty thousand 
British troops from home to India, Lucknow 

Digitized by V^OOQIC 








24.— bv 1 f->,CH. 1858. 

as I did at first hand, or the nameless things 
that were done to our kinsfolk in India. 

The verses in Punch facing the picture in 
No. 21 show very plainly what the feeling 
wa:s in this country, even among men who 
had not seen the sights that our troops in 
India saw : — 

Whin |hl[i-s nlmiLt fn«ri:y '.' Tin- a'^ini/i-d wail 
Of babies hewn piecemeal yet sickens, the aii\ 

And *choe* ^ii]l shudder that caught on the salt, 
Tht mother's the iiiakLtMi"-. wild scream of* Impair. 

Who puies about mercy! Thai word may be said 
When Heel, red and sated, perforce mtt*l retire, 

Ami., Tor every soft hair of each dearly-loved head, 
A c»rd hjis dnpttchftd a foul fiend to he tU tire. 

The A venders are march inji— fierce eyes in a glow ; 

Tin 1 ^tngcfut for cursts are I ips linked like those 
Hut hearts hold two prjycr*- to tonic up with the foe, 

And to hear the proud blast that givt* *lgun\ to close. 

Etc,, etc., etc. 

And terrified India shall te]] to all time 

How Englishmen paid her for murder ami lust; 

And itained not their fame with one spot of the crime 
Tlial brought the rich splendour or Delhi to du*u 

Pumh had no patience with that 
party at home who urged mercy, and 
who feared that, in avenging Cawn- 
pore and the other horrors of the 
Mutiny, we should go too far and 
disgrace our name, by treating the 
enemy's women as they had treated 
ours. Notice in the picture, No. 21, 
that Tenniel has been careful to 
show the Indian women grouped 
behind Justice, mourning, but un- 
harmed hy our men as these march 
annihilating the treacherous muti- 
neers, with Justice leading them on. 

W"|i 4 Tl MT. VftfTIA *rtTI ■i , * ,| V. ft'ai, Till ■ vTt II. THI SffPHB ±S|T TrMtfl* Bnl *!* 
H'BTIIIH r«l JiH, smb »mb*i*ip. i P-THfJi lit! trwirill ipF TBI AfflM* EilriH. 

M Pn»rLE Sb Aj-iyo.f, n.i-. Alrfl Kwmil Hit m*<H9»w fm* lit t>*#t' 



by GoOgK 

ad— ny lj^cel 1659, 

However, let us follow 
our Mentor, Punch, and 
pass from grave to gay by 
looking now at the funny 
sketch in No. 22. 

No, 23 shows Field- 
Marshal Punch presenting 
the "Life of Wellington" 
to the Prince of Wales, 
who at age seventeen 
became a Colonel in the 
British Army- This was 
published November 20, 

Earlier in the same 
Volume, No, XXXV. of 
Mr. Punch's long row of 
1 1 5 Volumes, there is on 
page 53 another curious 
example of Pumfis way of 
forecasting things or events 
which later become actuali- 
ties. For the mention of 
^example I am indebted 





Ha tmy b* aa inaffemirg Animal, but he Don't Look lftc it 

37. — ftV LEECH, 1859. 

Toainu «»4*fkh*™ *r * fan t|*rn mi r»ui 

itn T - frm. Mi. T<i»nw, ,.b HUT **» f Uuuiti. 11 

to Mr. Spiel- 
rnann, and it is 
interesting as 
anticipating the 
Missing- Word 
Competitions of 
a few years ago 
which were then 
so popular. Here 
is the piece from 
Punch, published 
August 7,1858: — 
Bir]> ■ Fanciers 

AND BttARt) 


Omitting the first 
word, we print the 
following advertise- 
ment verljatim from 
the Times : — 

To Short- Faced Beard-Fanciers.— The owner of a 
good stud of liluc and silver Ijeards* feeling anxious 
lo improve the breed, is open Lo Show a Silver, 
Buard f )cn agsunst all England for a match of two 
guineas. — Address Mr. William Squire, Chymisl, 
1 Ian well , W. 

We have not any wish to l>e thought a sporting 
character, nor to have our office mistaken for a 
l*et tin ^-office < but we are open lo a wager, with any 
lady reader, that she will not in six guesses name the 
wont we have omitted ; , . . . 

Speculation on the points which we above have 
mooted might, of course, have been prevented liy 
insertion of the word we have omitted \ and we 
might create a spurious excitement by announcing 
that the word would be '* given in our next/' . * . * 
We will therefore keep our readers no longer in sus- 
pense, and without beguiling them to pay another 
threepence by withholding whnt is now within our 
power to print, we will state that the word 
" Pigeons " headed the advertisement. t , . . 

Digitized by C.OOQK 


r« rmt n L * a t„ 

n r H« T™i,f»i r* 

aB.— yv leech. 185& 

The preceding statement 
was published, as I have 
said, in 1858, and thirty- 
four years later, in 1892, 
the idea here set out by 
Mr. Punch attained its full 
development in the great 
Missing-Word Competitions 
of that year. 

No, 24 shows to us 
Punch's old friend, Mr. 
Briggs, engaged in a very 
unsuccessful attempt to 
initiate some horse- taming 
experiments, whkh just 
then, in 1858, were attract- 
ing public notice. 

No, 25 is a rather grue- 
some picture of the state 
of the River Thames before 
the K m bank men ts were 
built and when the river 
was a common 
muck - receiver, 
and was thus a 
danger to life. 
Pttmh with his 
usual sagacity 
advocated the 
spending of the 
necessary money 
to remedy such 
a had state of 
things, and here 
we see the posi- 
t i o n pithily 
summed up in 
the words: 
** Your money or 
your life« ?J 
No. 26 is funny. 

1 «..■* i. y ... f , 




The extraordinary cartoon in No, 
27 is a very clever thing by Leech. 
It represents Napoleon III. as a 
porcupine, bristling with French 
bayonets in place of quills, and the 
cartoon refers to the contradiction 
between Napoleon's words 
11 I/Empire e'est la paix " [The 
Empire is Peace], and the fact that 
simultaneously with the expression 
of this peaceful sentiment, a large 
increase was being made in the 
military armament of France. This 
military growth in France naturally 
attracted our attention, and Leech 
drew this very clever cartoon, which 
is additionally interesting as a tour 
de force by Leech, for he proposed 
the idea and drew the picture in two 
hours, time being very scant that 
week in March, 1859, owing to an 
exceptional postponement of the 
usual Wednesday / J *w//-d inner, at 
which the forthcoming cartoon is 

Passing Nos, 28, 29, and 30, we 
come to the cartoon in No, 31, 
which was published March 5, 1859, 
just forty years ago. But we have 


He has not had to do so, as regards any of 
his Continental neighbours, since that day of 
March, 1859, when Punch published this 
picture we are now looking at and may 
another forty years be added to those forty 
which have gone without dimming the sense 
of this picture, before Mr, Kull has to weigh out 
his u dry powder JT upon a large |>air of scales. 
No. 32 shows to us the bucolic appreCia- 


the same Queen who is here seen in 
her Store- Room, and that Queen has the 
same Faithful Servant to whom she says 
to-day, as she said forty years ago, u l don't 
know what may happen, Mr, Bull, but 
'Keep our Powder Dry.'*' And Mr, Bull, 
of Her Majesty's [War] Store Room, may be 
trusted to obey his Queen's order, although 
he heartily wishes that he may not have to 
unpack his stores for many a year to come. 

Digitized by G* 

A- * En it eh 4i|r XRl it u* LnpLD BhOUUera ?e W Of «Tr Ttii*rH 
TvpxiPWM F tun. eh *LLo*1*a It wrrm M 
Ol lJ.t, VoL-sg. M Mt 1 O. LE til vJrt 4 T1*T Ip * NmwC '" 


jimrrtofflF*- i8 »- 




tion of cura^oa by 
Lord Broadacres T 
farmer - tenant, 
who wants " zum 
o' that in a Moog," 

Leech's picture 
in No, 3j intro- 
duces the Duke 
of Edinburgh for 
the first time, I 
believe, into the 
fxiges of Punch. 
This cartoon was 
published May 
14, 185ft when it 
was proposed to 
i n crea se ou r Na vy , 
and the young 
Prince Alfred was 
then entered on 
the books of the 
Eiiryaius, The 
Duke was at that 
time fifteen years 
of age, and Leech 
has, To r some 
reason not known 
tu me, represented 
him as quite a 
small boy of five 
or six years old. 

'I'he Very funny 
picture. No. 34, which comes next, is pro- 
bably a representation by Leech of his own 
sufferings from noise of all sorts. Leech 
bad an absolute 
horror of street 
and other noises, 
and Mr. F. G, 
Kit ton has re- 
corded, in his 
B i ogra phical 
Sketch of John 
Leech, that when 

a ■:■■■-,: fyata. 

fi-hCJ liril* DP Til E7ii|L..-i 


Am-^L I'.jitn Illlkt.. Vi;* TfChlll P h* f fcAHFLt FOR TtRl 

jj.— lilH jJUKE OF KUIMUl-'KLiK Q\ KMtRIMi TIIK NAVV- HY !4fECK r 1%9- 

who had gone into the 
quiet night. 

I have compared a 

the artist's friends 
made light of his 
extreme suscepti- 
bility to noise and 
tried to jest with 
him on the sub- 
ject, Leech would 
say, H You may 
laugh, but I assure 
you it will kill 
me." And there 
is no doubt but 
that Leech's early 
death was to no 
s m all degree 
brought about by 
the continual dis- 
turbance from 
street noises to 
which he was 
subjected while 
at work — an evil 
that nowadays is 
even worse than 
in Leech's time 
when in 1859 he 
drew this very 
funny u Portrait of 
One of the Village 
Cochins" that was 
disturbing the 
unfortunate man 
country to have a 

ood portrait of 
Leech with the 
distracted face 
of the man in 
bed, and it 
seems to me 
that Leech has 
here drawn a 
portrait of him- 

34. — BV LMCH, 1B59. 

{Ta fie eonfimtetL) 

by Google 

Original from 

"Biggest on Record" 

By George Dollar, 


OL. TAPLEY, who lives in 
Spencerberg, Missouri, has the 
longest beard on record It 
measures iofL Sin. in length, 
and reaches "to the ground, 
where it lies extended in 

a snake - like curl* The owner of this 

remarkable hirsute 

curiosity is a wealthy 

farmer and prominent 

citizen of Missouri, 

born in 1 83 t. Thirty- 
five years ago he let 

his beard begin to 

grow t and as he comes 

of a long-lived family 

and enjoys splendid 

health, the heard 

promises to reach a 

length of 20ft. In fact, 

when the photo, shown 

herewith was taken on 

August 31st, 1896, the 

beard was but 9ft. 2m. 

in length. 
Where does Mr. 

Tapley keep his beard ? 

Inside his shirt bosom, 

of course, but carefully 

rolled up in a silk bag, 

from which he extracts 

it when surrounded by 

admirers. He dresses 

it with the best of oils, 

and combs it with a 

specially-made wooden 

comb* It is related 

that on a certain occa- 
sion, in Chicago, Mr, 

Tapley took his beard 

out to show to some 

small boys on the 

street, when he was im- 
mediately surrounded 

by a throng that 

blocked the traffic and necessitated I he 


A dime museum proprietor now offered 

Mr. Tapley an enormous salary to enter his 

exhibit as a star attraction, but the long- 
bearded man was too good a citizen and too 

VoIp *vii. 

well- to-do to accept such an offer, and his 
life is now spent in quiet at Spfencerberg. 

Regarding the genuirierfess of the beard, 
we ourselves possess excellent proof, but 
on this point Mr,- Tapley himself writes : 
" There would be no use in trying to palm 
off anything that was nut genuine here, as 
I am known by almost 
every man, woman, and 
child in the neighbour- 
hood, and as I am 
now living within one 
mile of the place where 
I was born. 7f 

It is the intention 
of this short series of 
articles thus to illus- 
trate some of the more 
remarkable oddities in 
the world, which may 
fairly claim the title 
under which we write. 
We shall spurn nothing 
which is well known, 
provided it is bigger 
than something else of 
the same kind. We 
shall, in short, have 
a little of everything, 
and the variety of 
stuff will probably 
amaze our readers as 
much as it amazed us 
when we first began 10 
handle the material 

Let us then jump 
at once from whiskers 
to primroses. We have 
at the top of the next 
page an illustration of 
a curious bunch con- 
taining over seventy 
primroses all on one 
stem, which, according 
to Mr. Thomas W. 
Collins, of Bugbrooke, grew on an ordinary 
single red primrose in the garden of Miss 
Frost of that place. Until we hear of some- 
thing larger than this beautiful bunch of 
lavish blooms we shall make bold to class it 
amo|it^V|^e.|^gefip i#n|g$.j$N known. 



/V---1.I '•' ! 


Nearly everyone who goes to Jersey brings 
home a walking-stick made of the dried 
stalks of Jersey cabbages ; and those who 
live far away from Jersey, and have never 
been to it, will take it with a grain of salt 
that cabbages do grow up in the air. But 
here is a picture for proof. Some of the 
vegetables grow to the amazing height of 
i oft., and the figure in the foreground of 
our illustration gives an approximate idea 

of the comparative sixes of a man and 
a Jersey cabbage. The man does not 
eat the cabbage. It is, in simple 
language of the primers, eaten by 
animals: and although it has nothing 
to do with the subject, we might add 
that these cabbages cannot be made to 
grow at Guernsey* 

In dealing with these vegetable record 
growths we must not forget that soil and 
climate have much to do with the sub- 
ject. Therefore it would not be im usual 



to find sunflowers growing in the Canary 
Islands Lu a height of ioft. or 12 ft. The 
sunflower shown in the illustration above, 
sent by Miss J. dc Korssmann, of Arguijon, 
Puerto Cruz, Teneriffe, Canary Isles, was 
but four months old when cut down in 
the middle of August last, and measured 
12ft. yin. in height, When photographed 
it had one hundred and twenty -three 

t'rvirt a I 

TMli IAI.I.KST CM5llAtif>., I J J *"d»j/iWj ih 



all in 



btocm. Two feet from the ground the stem 
measured 6in. in circumference. No cause 
is known for its abnormal growth, as it was 
self-sown, like many others. 

On this {mgc we have the biggest lily and 
the biggest thistle yet photographed. The 
first of these, photographed by E- L, Jackson, 
of Oakbank, St. Helena, grew at Oak bank. 

fauna] THE TALLEST ST. joHtt's XJOJt* L Ptotoffrwpk 

Unfortunately, it was not possible to photo- 
graph it where it grew, as it was blocked by 
a hedge of jasmine and camellia. It was 
taken out and tied to a banana 
tree, by which change the 
height of this beautiful plant 
is more easily to be seen. It 
stood over 8ft; above ground, 
the usual height of these St, 
John's lilies being from 2 i - ft* 
to 3ft. 

About this size, also, is the 
ordinary thistle. But here is 
one 5ft, in height, which, on 
account of its unusual growth, 
was secured hy the Ipswich 
Scientific Society, and presented 
to the Ipswich Museum. It was /**»«<, photo, ^i 

If mm a /'fcot>. M the tallest thistle. [\\ >» *V£. If+aich. 

photographed by Mr, William Vick, of London 
Road, Ipswich, and consists of a number of 
stems all from one root, fascia ted in one 
stem 7 in. broad and about lin, thick, It 
had twenty-two flower heads, and, as Mr. 
Vick writes, "a head somewhat like the 
common cockscomb of our gardens/' It is 
on account of the absence of any standard of 
measurement in the photo, that we are par- 
ticular in this case, as in others, to give the 
exact measurements. 

He who has sent in the next photograph, 
Mr. William P. Skelton, of The Lakes Herald^ 

~T»* „ V W»IT « 

(fain* ftifriniurt, Bovm&t. 




Windermere, says: (l It 
is not on record whether 
Words worth in his boy- 
hood at ancient Hawks 
head ever made this clog 
the subject of a sonnet 
- it is worth it ! " We 
might disagree with this 
verdict, hut not with 
the probability that the 
famous clog of HawkS- 
head is the biggest slioe 
on record. It is now 
on view at an old- 
fashioned hostelry, "The 
Brown Cow, 11 and used 
to be worn by a mole- 
catcher named John 
Waterson, of Outgate, 
near Windermere Lake. 
Waterson lived to a 
great age, and had a 
most remarkable foot. 
The clog measures zoin* 
in length, over Sin. wide 
at the bottom, i6in. from 
welt to welt across the 
the back, from tab to 
of the heel 7 in. One 
any living man 
would be able 
to get his foot 
into su4;h an 
inclosure, but 
suppos i t i o n s 
cannot always 
be trusted. It 
was not before 
Mr, Waters on 
had cut the hoot 
down in front, 
and inserted 
lace h oles to 
make it wider, 
that he was able 
to put his foot 
in it 

, Ipswich, by 
the way, con- 
tains not only 
the biggest 
thistle, but the 
biggest boy on 
record — at least, 
the biggest boy 
for his years. He 
is the son of 
Mr Arthur Part- 
ridge, a farm- 

] tiki LAMii:^ r J.i 'Y. 
Frv»t a Phvto. b» Jok* UvotU rhvm & ito*, Iptttich. 

bailiff, of Wash brook, 
and his measurements 
were lately taken by 
about twenty doctors, 
who examined him in 
the Ipswich Hospital 
Master Partridge is over 
six years and eight 
months of age, and his 
net weight at the age 
of six and a half years 
was 9«st. 31b, (1291b.). 
He measures 3ft 10 in. 
around the chest, 4 2 in. 
round the body, around 
the calf of leg iyin., and 
round the thigh 27m, 
To a certain extent he 
might be considered 
abnormal, but he is both 
healthy and intelligent, 
and has rarely needed 
the services of a doctor. 
The enormous bunch 
of pears shown in the 
accompanying il lustra- 
front, 2 2 in. around tion was grown at (-addesden Place, Herts, 
tab,. and the length byT, I\ Hulsey, Esq., MJ\ There were over 
would suppose that a hundred pears on the bunch, which was 

after a few of 
the pears had 
dropped off. 
Hundreds who 
saw this on exhi- 
bition were of 
the opinion that 
it was the largest 
bunch ever 
grown. But as 
we have no 
statistics from 
California and 
other fruit-grow- 
ing countries on 
which to base 
an opinion, we 
dare only to say 
that it is the 
biggest bunch 
on record in 

The everyday 
farmer will be 
astonished at the 
largest single- 
furrOw plough in 
the world, which 

n-tuj a rtwto hyj. [Htnn, Htmtl /7«mj W I ' 1 I I | -- It i I L I i. ' 





herewith, and will wonder what the giant was 
ever created for. According to Mr, \Y\ R, 
Mason, of Bakersfield, Kern Co., California, 
who sent in the photograph, the plough cuts 
a furrow 4ft. wide, and was originally built for 
the purpose of making irrigation canals. It 
was, however, found to be too unwieldy for the 
purpose, as it took eighty teams of oxen to 
draw it. Those 
who are curious 
to see this Cali- 
fornian folly will 
find it in the 
possession of thi ; 
Kern County 
Land Company. 
It certainly de- 
serves a place in 
our lively cate- 
gory of immen- 

We now ap- 
proach a more 
u meaty " subject 
— Nature's bo- 
vine noblemen, 
or the finest yoke 
of mammoth- 
matched oxen in 
the world. We 
are indebted for 
the photograph 
to Mrs. E, N.- 
Holt, of Orlando, 
Florida, The 
oxen are owned 

by a resident of Buckland, Mass,, who 
with just pride has exhibited them at 
numerous agricultural shows and £tate fairs 
in the United States and Canada, and the 
manner in which these Titans have walked 
off with first prizes is wonderful indeed. 

They are like elephants 
actual weight at the age 

in size, their 
of eight years 
being 7,3001b., 
17 hands high, 
raft, in girth, 
15ft. in length, 
and 15ft. it in. 
from tip to tip. 
They are un- 
equalled for size, 
quality, mating, 
and beauty. They 
have a record for 
hauling on the 
ground on a drag 
a dead weight of 
n,o6ilb. Had 
thus mammoth 
pair been put in 
front of the Kern 
County plough, 
it is not unlikely 
that the irrigation 
canals would 
have been cut 
and the largest 
plough in the 
world saved from 
destruction and 

^■Vrj-m q \ 



1 r ur 


^ Transport 

By Basil Marnan, 

DARE not risk it, Mrs. 
Qrme ! The river is running 
strong now. Those five 
poor beasts would be no- 
where in mid-stream." 

And Reuben Jessop 
pointed with his long whip to the out- 
spanned bullocks that stood knee-deep in 
the rising waters of the Molopa River. 
Sorry beasts they were, and scraggy indeed, 
with no tails, with but patches of hair on their 
hard, polished hides, their mouths dripping, 
their eyes red and fierce. For " lung-sick " 
had reduced the transport riders team of 
sixteen to the five doomed remnant now before 
hi in. His face was gloomy enough in the 
strong glare of the mid-day sun as he looked 
over the river and scanned the surrounding 
country, with ever and again a furtive glance 
at the woman at his side. Mile after mile 
the veld swept on, a rolling, billowy sea of 
freshening grass ; up above a sky utterly 
cloudless, pitiless in its strenuous burning 
light ; the river rolling on placidly enough as 
yet at their feet, yet with a suspicious tinge 
as of mud in its blue waters, and a faint sing- 
ing hum in the laughter of its ripples — a hum 
that, to the trained ear of Reuben, spoke of 
wild torrents racing, foaming, bubbling down 

the hollows and creeks and hillsides, turbu- 
lent with the flood and menace of the first 
rains of the season. 

In the tent of his waggon was a wounded 
trooper on the way to Mafekjng, and the 
woman by his side was a nurse who had 
volunteered for the front, only to be sent 
back with the first victim of Galiswe's rebel- 
lion. The escort had left them two days 
back. And now they were in the angle of 
the slight spur that borders the Transvaal 
State, the angle that Beehuanaland makes 
with the River Molopa, whose head waters 
rise in the kloofs and kopjes that surround 
the little township of Zeemst. And that 
river they had to cross. 

There is something infinitely mournful in 
the aspect of a waggon outspanned by a 
river in the midst of a great stretch of veld. 
The battered, travel-stained tarpaulin of the 
tent, the dirt-choked wheels, the bit of 
sacking or the frayed edge of a tattered gar- 
ment that marks the driver^ seat, the pole 
lying inert on the ground, the weary, listless 
look of the tired beasts — everything seems 
to accentuate the insignificance of man and 
the illimitable character of his surroundings. 

And as they stood now taking in the 
scene, Reuben nc Jj^§(|>f r0 |lpoked and felt 

ver ? anxi flffiVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 



f .. 

! » 

"Is it so very necessary to cross at once?" 
Mrs. Orme asked him. She was a pretty 
little woman, whose sad face and grey haiF 
contrasted strangely with her youthful appear- 

" Absolutely necessary," said Reuben. "It's 
this way, Mrs. Orme. Any one of these 
smooth-looking billowy crests we have been 
crossing may conceal an impi who have 
struck our spoor. The last three days' rain 
has flooded the up-waters. Watch the river 
and see the signs of driftwood in it— twigs, 
grasses, and things of that kind. By dawn 
to-morrow it will be a banker with twenty 
feet of water in mid-stream, and we shall be 
landed here for a month perhaps, which 
won't give poor Corporal Borman much 

"But how can you get any more cattle?" 
asked the nurse, anxiously. 

" How, indeed ! " echoed Jessop. "There's 
not a kraal within twenty miles inhabited. 
The men are away to the Great Place with 
Jantje. The women are up in the kloofs 
with such beasts as the rinderpest has 

" But the Boers ? Could you not ride 
into the Transvaal? There used to be a 
farm near here. I remember the spot so 

"You ! Mrs. Orme ! " exclaimed Reuben. 
" I had no notion you had been here before." 

"It was here that in flying from the 
Boers in the war before '84 I lost my hus- 
band and daughter. Oh, you can't think 
how I hate and dread these African drifts, 
Mr. Jessop. Our waggon overturned, and 
my darlings were swept away in that great, 
rushing, yellow flood." Ruth Orme's pale 
face grew even paler at the memory. " My 
husband was . discovered later with his head 
all laid open, but my little daughter Ruth 
was never found." 

" Ruth ! " repeated Jessop, a sudden gleam 
lighting up his eyes. " How old would your 
daughter be now if she had lived ? " he in- 
quired. " Twenty ? Ah ! " and he began 
loading his pipe meditatively. 

At that juncture the wounded man de- 
manded Mrs. Orme's attention, and she did 
not notice the strange expression which had 
come into the transport rider's rugged face. 
He was of the type that has made South 
Africa. A big, clean-limbed, broad-shouldered 
Yorkshireman he was, hard and tireless and 
undaunted as his native scars, with a face 
tanned to a dusky red, and set round with a 
beard and hair of that mellow gold one sees 
on the harvest wains as the reapers chant 

the sun's requiem. The long, tawny locks 
gave an almost leonine look to the face in 
spite of its leanness and length. But with 
all his grimncss and size, and lithe, steel-like 
swing of limb and body that seemed to 
indicate a character stark and dour, the eyes 
of the man betrayed a treasure store of 
tenderness somewhere in his nature. And 
now as he looked over the river their limpid, 
soft brown was glowing with a light very 
tender indeed as he murmured to himself, 
with a swift look after the retreating figure of 
the nurse : — 

" By Jove ! How curious it would be ! I 
had no idea she was Fred Orme's widow. 
Why, I used to fag for him at Giggleswick. 
And little Ruth! Twenty years, eh ? And 
I always felt dead certain she never came of 
that Boer stock. She has given me 'no' 
twice ; but now I'll look in there again, and 
on pretence of getting cattle see if she has 
changed her mind, and try and pump Oom 
Bothe as to her parentage. 

" Bring me the horse, Sammy," he called 
out to the Fingo leader, the one boy he 
always took with him as driver or leader of 
the team. He walked over to the waggon, 
which was standing at the entrance of the 
gap leading down to the drift or ford. On 
one side the plain rolled away westwards 
following the bend of the river, on the other the 
bank rose up some thirty or forty feet. He 
had driven his waggon well under this bank, 
and as near to the water as possible in order 
to provide as efficient defence as was practi- 
cable against any attack. Nor were his 
precautions ill-advised, for as Sammy 
appeared with the horse, a party of some 
twenty Bechuanas came into sight on the 
top of one of the ridges, to drop down 
instantly into the grass, and vanish from 
sight. With a muttered curse Reuben took 
down the three Lee-Metfords and loaded 
the magazines. 

" Are you a good shot ? " he asked Mrs. 

" Yes," she said, simply, as she took the 
carbine from him. Frontier women are 
rarely fussy. 

" Hand a gun up here," came in a weak 
voice from the tent. " I've just got a nigger's 
head in lovely target. I can fire all right 
lying down. Don't you trouble, nurse. I 
sha'n't move more than if our friend's 
bullocks were tossing me between the back 

It had been the work of a moment to 
secure the horse in front of the waggon, so 
th^jffhti pf?§| covered from the rebels. Sammy 



"a tarty op some twenty hkchuakas camu 1™ siciir. ' 

was armed with an old Snider, With it h- 
had once hit an ant-heap at about a hundred 
yards, and hud euntemplateil the dc\asta 
lion wiih a joy and pride nothing had ever 
since eradicated. No persuasion would have 
induced him to exchange a weapon which 
could make a wound about 2ft. across for 
one whoso bullet only made a hole like a 
dart. So Sammy hugged his Snider, lying 
under the waggon, with his black eyes glisten- 
ing and his teeth showing— for all the world, 
a human spaniel on the watch. 

The attack was not long in coming, A 
rustle in the grass, the Li plea ping of a score of 
black forms, a wild yelk the clash of assegai 
blades, the whirr of their flight, and the little 
band of rebels dashed across the eighty yards 
that separated them from the booty that 
seemed so easy of conquest, 

u Hold your fire, boys," said Reuben. 
"Lie down, Mrs. Orme, behind the awning, 
I'll give you the word. Don't hurry yourself. 
Sammy, you silly devil, take your gun from 
between my legs. Now ! Let 'em have it ! n 

The savages were within forty yards before 
Reuben gave the word. Sammy had for- 
gotten to take his trigger off half-cock, and in 
a curiously pidgin Hnglish was trying to 
blaspheme. But from the Lee-Metfords the 
deadly hail of lead poured forth with startling 
precision. At the first three reports, three 
Dechuanas rolled over biting at the grass. 
But that was to be expected, and the rest 

came on. But guns that fire for ever ! Wov ! 
As shot after shot pinged into the ochred 
bodies with that little deadly sizzle as the 
bullet bit the flesh, the rebels paused, broke, 
and then incontinently fled, leaving seven of 
their number dead* 

" Excellent , Mrs. Orme ! " exclaimed 
Reuben. " You were cool as a cucumber." 

" I hope I didn't hit any of the poor 
things/ 7 was the answer. " But do you see 
they have driven off the cattle?" 

" Yes ! n Reuben replied. M And it mears 
that now I must ride in to liothe's, and see 
if they will lend i»r >< 11 me a team. But 
those brutes would think it a joke to leave 
some English people to be chewed up by 
the Kaffirs, However, I must do my best. 
Its an hours ride in, nearly, I reckon 1 
shall be back _n about two hours," 

And as he swung himself on his horse, 
Reuben turned to Mrs. Orme and said : — 

¥ * Keep a sharp look-out for natives, 
though they won't attack now till nightfall, 
if then. And, Mrs. Orme t I hope to have 
some news for you when I return." 

And with a wave of his hand he dug his 
heels into his horse and dashed off over the 

Bothf/s Farm near Langeberg was en fete. 
Few farmers bevond the Vaal had a goodlier 
vard of rattle Mfttft&fcfffrc „r gmin .tan 

W °°ffNlfc«lfifeN 

■ ran " for 



miles around, and it was only lately that he 
had built a new brick residence destined for 
his son and his son's intended bride. This 
last was none other than the girl Ruth, the 
invocation of whose name had stirred Reuben 
Jessop to such a glow of tenderness, Known 
all round as Ruth Bothe, it was, nevertheless, 
common knowledge that Ruth was no child 
of the old farmer, though he claimed her for 

tiny little dimple that looked like a laugh of a 
Cupid bubbling through a rose leaf, and with 
eyes, large, dark, flashing, tender, soft, and 
pleading, showing a hundred fleeting moods 
in every hour Ruth was indeed at once the 
tyrant and dispute of that part of the 

Of all her suitors, Oom Bothers son, Carl, 
she loathed perhaps most. Carl acted as 


niece, having brought her in one day during 
ihe war thirteen years before. Among the 
callow and somewhat camel-faced maidens of 
the Transvaal Ruth shone as a star amid 
turnips. Not that she was particularly 
beautiful She wasn't. But she was alive, 
with a vivid, electrifying, communicative 
vitality which made all those around her feel 
in her presence as though the sunshine were 
chasing the wind over the laughter of blue 
waters* Neither tall nor short, with a figure 
whose full, round curves were yet perfectly 
harmonious with the lithe, lissom swing of 
youth* she was just a healthy, well-developed, 
womanly girl of nearly twenty summers, with 
very little nonsense in her head, and a fresh, 
maidenly heart beneath a breast ever prone 
to beat in sympathy with the cause of the 
oppressed. With dark, wavy hair and olive 
complexion, a rather pert nose and chin* a 
mouth generous, mischievous, by turns wistful 
and wooing, and turning up at the corners, and 
hovering in the most distracting way over a 

Vol, xviL-35 

field comet to his district, and looked upon 
himself as the angel the Lord had designed 
for the protection and patronage of President 
Kruger, He was a long, thin, weedy young 
man, whom excessive dissipation in Johannes- 
burg bars and among the kraals of the 
natives had reduced to a state of dilapidated 
dandy-dom. His father looked on him as a 
model of wisdom and intelligence, and in 
private had long decided to bestow on him ihe 
hand of Ruth,- That Ruth should dream of 
resisting never occurred to the Boer. Helooked 
on her as a pet slave. He had picked her up 
a wet, unconscious child on the banks of the 
Molopa thirteen years ago— a waif, a pcuper. 
Who was she to question his disposition of 
her, and to his son, too? He had noticed 
with no little suspicion and resentment the 
attentions of the roinek Jessop. He was not 
half satisfied at the casual way they appeared 
to have met and chatted at the banks of 
the drift, and did not see the necessity 
of the Englishman's confounded impudence 


2 74 


in subsequently escort :ng Ruth home. And 
though in courtesy bound to offer him 
coffee, he always cursed the sight of him. 
It was four years since Reuben had first met 
the girl, and three since he first proposed 
to her. But Ruth had always laughed at him 
and sent him away, yet never without such 
a lingering flash of tenderness as served to 
fan the fires of his hope till the next trip 
brought him to her again. And now the old 
Boer had put his house en ftt^ having that 
day asked his friends to come over and 
witness the betrothal of his son to Ruth. 

Ruth had spent the morning since receiv- 
ing the intimation partly in crying over 
ths? long silence of a big Yorkshireman, the 
remembrance of whose eyes somehow made 
her blush, making her feel curious, curling 
little thrills in her toes, and partly in savagely 
wondering how she could acquaint Oom 
Hothe with the fatuity of his hopes. 

It was, therefore, a very radiant face that 
welcomed the entry of Reuben Jessop as, 


tethering his steaming horse at the gate, he 
strode in among thi j guests. Some ten or 
twelve were there, standing round the big 
lire in the great hall that served as general 
room, A dead silence greeted Reuben's 
request for cattle and assistance.. -v*-^fj| 

"I'm quite willing to buy the cattle, if 
you won't lend them/ he added, a hot flush 
mounting his face, 

w The roinek asks for cattle, father ! " 
sneered Carl Bothe, who stood a few feet off 
Reuben, surveying him Insultingly, 
A chorus of grunts rose up, 
" The roinek asks for cattle : He ! He ! T ' 
cackled the women-folk, and again a chorus 
of grunts. 

" Oom Bothe/' said Reuben, " I have an 
Knglish lady and a wounded man in my 
waggon. The river is rising, the natives 
have already attacked us, and will return for 
certain in force to-night. If you do not let 
me have beasts, we shall be murdered" 

" He ! He ! He ! " cackled the women. 
"The ro'ineks will be murdered.' 7 

" 1 have no cattle to lend the romeks," said 
the old man, puffing stolidly at his pipe. 

" And the nearest place is Krugersdorp," 
added his son, with a sneer* u Dead cattle," 
he added, with a grin. i$ And if there are not 
enough there, you will 
find more at Majuba/* 
Reuben gave him 
a look and turned 
towards the door, 
where Ruth, with a 
pale face, was stand- 
ing. Brandy, exulta- 
tion, innate cruelty, 
and conceit combined 
to form in Carl Bothers 
mind a sudden im- 
pulse to evince his 
prowess and contempt 
of England before his 
guests at the expense 
of the roinek. And 
as Reuben turned he 
I'fted his sjambok and 
flicked him lightly on 
i he back. The snigger 
that went round the 
room, the fatuous smile 
on his own loose lips, 
was suddenly frozen, 
however. For Re u lien 
swung round, a light 
like glowing steel in 
his sombre eyes. 
" You ! M he gasped 
between his clenched teeth. A couple of 
swift strides *nd then, before the weedy, 
emasculated youth could still his paling, 
quivering lips, Reuben had seized him by 
his throat and belt, lifted him high in the 
air, swung him round, and hurled him clean 




across the hall imo the great hearth^ where 
he fell, scattering right and left the blazing 

As he made for his horse he felt Ruth's 
hand slip under his arm, and stopped to see 
her face turn anxiously 
to him, a new light in 
her eyes that made his 
pulses beat high, 

"Quick! Go! "she 
said. " They will shoot 
you. At any cost, go ! 
You shall have the 


cattle, if I bring them myself* Yes, 
before midnight Go. No ! " she cried, 
breaking loose from him, as he attempted 
to convey more closely the warmth of his 
gratitude. " Not yet ! " she added, demurely, 
as he sprang into his saddle, and dashed off 
just as Bothe and his guests came running 
out, their rifles in hand As Reuben lay on 
the neck of his horse, the last he saw of 
Ruth before dipping into the hollow was 
her figure with extended arms standing 
before the gate of the kraal, where Bothe 
kept his horses tethered. 

And, indeed, he was gone none too soon. 
Bothe and his friends were furious. The 
old man with his pipe in his mouth, his 
grey beard twitching, his red, rheumy eyes 
blinking at the sweltering glare of the veld, 
riis right hand, hairy and horny, gripping at 
his rifle, his old slouch hat slightly cocked 
over his ear, mingled in a manner irresistibly 
JudirJPUP the aspect of a primitive Puritan 

Digitized by tj( 

and that of a Sardinian bandit Carl him- 
self was being ministered to by his mother 
and aunts, who were picking off his burnt 
clothes and discussing his blisters, in that 
style of discursive and comprehensive 

comment on the 
maternal relations 
of his enemy which 
the Boer lady 
shares with the 
pious Hindu. 

Having averted 
both the immediate 
danger of pursuit 
of her lover and 
betrothal of herself, 
Ruth withdrew into 
a lodge overlooking 
the cattle kraal, to 
enjoy the vent of 
her laughter and 
happiness. She 
cordially hated 
Carl, regarding him 
as a cruel libertine 
and spiteful bully, 
and she had all a 
woman 's capacity 
for glorying in a 
deed of strength 
her soul confirmed 
as righteous. She 
was therefore enjoy- 
ing herself very 
much when the 
sound of voices ap- 
proaching her 
retreat disturbed her. As the door opened, 
she glided through the open French window 
and stood one moment on the veranda, 
thinking. Her face had grown suddenly 
pale. For in the intruders she had recog- 
nised one of Galiswes indunas with Oom 
Bothe ; and such a companionship foreboded 
mischief to the man she was beginning to 
feel she could not live without loving. 

For more than an hour the two haggled 
and bargained, ravelling as Kaffirs and Boers 
love to ravel the thread of each argu- 
ment But when they finally departed, and 
Ruth saw the chief gliding away over the 
plain westwards, the fulness of the plot was 
only too startlingly plain. 

For thus had the Boer arranged with the 
Kaffir for the destruction of the Englishman. 
That night Oom Rythe would send a team 
Of cattle to Jessop on the pretence of helping 
him. As soon as the team were inspanned, 
they should overturn the waggon by driving 




it up the hank ; the Bechuanas should then 
run in and spear the Englishmen, and share 
the booty with Oom Bo the. It was so 
simple and so natural, and so very easy ; and 
if any questions were asked at Pretoria ! 
Bah ! When Oom Paul fiddled, did not the 
English lion dance? 

*< ' The best-laid plans of mice and men 
gang aft agley, 1 " murmured Ruth, quoting 
her lover's frequent remark on her own per- 
verse refusal of him, as creeping quietly down 
to the native kraal, a few hundred yards 
beyond the farm, she held a long conversation 
with a Fingo girl whose jolly countenance, alter 
undergoing every contortion of amazement 
and incredulity, settled into a bubbling, over- 
flowing grin of suppressed appreciation as 
of an excellent, if unmentionable, joke. 
Presently the same girl might have been seen 
to enter the Boer's house and proceed to 
Ruth's room, when, to judge by the sound of 

seasoned, perfectly trained animals, whose 
pull was like the persuasion of a traction 
engine. With such bullocks in his kraal 
the old man could really enjoy seeing some 
neighbourly waggon stuck in the mud. One 
by one the team were gathered together and 
inspanned silently and with no word spoken. 
One of the natives took the leading rope, 
the other stood by the kraal gate till the 
team were led out, after which she waited 
patiently till the team had noiselessly vanished 
beyond the nearest dip, when she quietly 
drove all the other beasts out of the kraal in 
the opposite direction, repeated the same 
operation with the horses ; then, breaking into 
the long lob trot at which natives can travel 
so far, soon rejoined her companion. 

The team needed little persuasion to travel 
fast. The girl who had remained behind 
took the leading rope, and the oxen followed 
her, running with a lumbering, swinging gait 


muffled merriment, the joke, whatever it was, 
was being further elaborated, 

About two hours previous to the time agreed 
upon by Bothe to send out the cattle to 
Reuben's undoing, there might have been 
seen in the great stone kraal two natives 
going in and out among a mob of cattle 
and picking out a peculiar lot of sturdy black 
beasts, with white faces and beautiful curved 
horns. These were the joy of Bothe's heart 
— draught bullocks such as no other man 
had in all Africa, Twenty strong, well- 

strangely similar to her own, The veld was 
very silent and deserted* Not even a dog 
disturbed the night silence. The field 
cornet being safely in bed with his blisters, 
no one would trouble to be patrolling. 
Soon in the distance the glisten of the 
river could be seen, and twice a native 
rose in the path to vanish again, silent, 
spectral, at the magic whisper Li rojnek, ,? The 
faint thud of the team's hoofs beat a rhythmic 
measure on the turf, that seemed to one of 
the two accompanying them to swing into a 

strange HI 


The stars 



blinked quietly down, ridge after ridge of 
billowy grass glided back into the night ; 
hollow after hollow echoed softly to the 
muffled peal of hoofs; the black bodies of 
the oxen swung like waving shadows in the 
warm night air ; their white faces, the 
glistening vapour of their panting breath, 
seemed like the weird pulsing of some great 
uncouth machine- There was such a silence 
about it all, and yet such an alluring sense of 
lilt in it, the whole scene was as a dream one 
might weave by moonlight over the noiseless 
heave of the ocean, The two girls, enveloped 
in their brown blankets, their hair in cork- 
screw wisps, their feet and legs bare to the 
knee, their blankets just covering their breasts, 
leaving the chests and arms bare ; beneath 
the starlight even they, too, seemed like 

At last, before them loomed the dim 
shadow of the waggon. Again there rose up 
from the veld two shadowy figures, assegais 
and shields in hand, only to sink as if swal- 
lowed into the 
earth, before 
the magic of 
the whispered 
word, ft roi- 
nek," As they 
were within a 
few yards of 
the waggon, 
the voice of 
Reuben rang 
out bidding 
them halt, 
11 Come down, 
O Koos, and 
hear a mes- 
sage," said the 
native girl, 
speaking in 
the Kaffir 
tongue. The 
other girl 
looking round 

saw the gleam of two assegais in the grass, The 
sense of danger destroyed the sense of shame. 
u Stay where you are, Reuben,' 1 she whispered, 
in English, " There is an am hush all round 
you. Tell Sammy to hook the cattle in and 
gallop the drifL There is a plot to let the 
cattle overturn the waggon. I overheard it, 
and we are two hours before the time.* But 
the river is very high- we must be quick. 
Get the rifles ready." 

" You darling I n said Reuben. " Stand 
by to come on board. Are you ready, 
Sammy? Jump in, now quick Yek! 

Yek, there ! Oop lads ! Yek ! " And as 
the girls scrambled in over the tail-board the 
long whip lashed round, circling the heads, 
finding the tender spots of each beast. With 
a jolt and a bound the waggon swung down 
into the drift, and before the natives could 
realize what had happened, was well in mid- 
stream. That they were none too soon was 
evident ; it was all the team n>uld do 
to keep their legs, and the water swirled 
up in angry, humming eddies on to the 
very tail- board of the waggon. Mrs. Orme 
shivered as she looked at it, and Reuben, 
thinking of the freight of love he bore, plied 
his whip with a crackle and swish that 
assuredly astonished the prize team of Oom 
Bothe* The centre once passed, however, 
the danger was over. A spur of beacl% 
running out into mid-stream, made the 
approach to the bank on the other side calm 
and easy* But they had still the natives to 
reckon with, and so Reuben urged the strain- 
ing beasts up the steep incline at a gallop 


till the waggon was safe from all possibility 
of flood. Along the stream on this side the 
banks were steep, and pursuit was only 
possible by the road in which they were. 
From where they had halted some forty feet 
above the river, where the level plain dipped 
into the cutting leading into the drift, the 
hack of the waggon commanded the whole 
of the gap to the water's edge, A volley 
plashed into the water brought home this 
fact to the Bechuanas on the other side, 
These, inde^^elne:, quite nonplussed. The 
ne m^B^ beyond their 



instructions, and in their doubt they decided 
to watch and send off a runner to their 
induna, who by that time should be with 
Oom Bothe. 

But the delay meant the loss of two hours, 
and when the old Boer and the Bechuanas 
rode up to the drift, midnight had gone by, 
and the river was moaning now, a surging, 
yellow torrent no horse could stem nor man 
stand in. The old Boer stood in his stirrups 
shaking his rifle, gesticulating and yelling 
across the noisy waters. His cattle and his 
son's promised bride ! The pride of his 
kraal and his home I And he had spent all 
the night in scouring the country for them, 
and almost cut a Kaffir boy in pieces with his 
sjambok for letting the cattle escape. In his 
madness and fury he urged his horse at the 
flood, beating it on the head with his rifle 
and tearing its flanks with his savage spurs. 
But his fury was vain. Like Balaam's ass 
his steed feared the sword of that flood-song 
in front of him, and goaded at last by his 
musters brutal senselessness, turned and 
bolted back to Langeberg, By dawn there 
was half a mile of water between the banks, 
and the river, thirty feet in depth now, was 
whirling down branches and veld drift, a 
foaming, racing, exul- 
tant torrent, impass- 
able for weeks. 

" Bothe's oxen will 
take us to Mafeking 
within a week," said 
Reuben, as early the 
next morning he stood 
talking to Ruth and 
Mrs, Or me. The) 
two> with arms twined 
round each other, 
formed a pretty pic- 
ture of glad peace. 
For the strange, mys- 
terious voice of 
Nature had drawn 
mother and child into 
a swift embrace at 
the first glance. The 
disguise of a Kaffir 
dress, of a little stain- 
ing and red-ochreifig, 
of a blanket which 
only revealed a 
figure distract- 
in gly sweet — they 
could not con- 
ceal the voice, the 
eyes ; could not 
alter the lips 


that had nestled against the mother's breast. 
And in the hungry, yearning silence of that 
embrace, when Mrs* Orme drew the girl into 
her arms, in the wonderful glow that flushed 
the weary eyes and sad, worn face of the 
Red Cross nurse, Ruth felt all her heart go 
out to this woman whose tremulous, pas- 
sionate whisper bade her call her "Mother." 

And memories once evoked soon grew 
and multiplied, and Ruth recalled many- 
childish recollections at her mother's sug- 
gestion. Doubt was impossible. And, in- 
deed, the two looked strangely alike in their 
nurse's dress. For Ruth had hastily dis- 
carded her native attire and stood now in 
one of her mother's gowns, the picture of 
demure reluctance and shy expectation. 
And when Mrs. Orme was giving the 
wounded trooper his breakfast, it was a very 
blushing face and eyes somewhat shyly 
frightened that hid on the broad expanse of 
Reuben's massive chest And when he 
teasingly whispered to her that he thought 
he would have the wedding in a Kaffir 
costume, the glance she gave him made him 
feel as though all his seventy-three inches 
had curied into his boots and then leaped to 
the stars. Just such a glance and blush, in 

fact, as he got when 
some months later 
he and his bride 
stood gazing into the 
mystery the moon^ 
light made under the 
mountain pines, and 
Reuben bent down 
to take the winsome, 
fearless face in his 
hands and asked 
her : — 

" Now tell me why 
it was you risked all 
that night —even that 
dress — for me ! " 

"It was because I 
loved you, ,J Ruth said, 
with a little smile, her 
eyes shining, as she 
cuddled up into the 
curve of his great, 
muscular arm, clasp- 
ing her two little 
hands over his brown, 
massive wrist, " And," 
she added, M because 
I just worshipped you 
for the way you threw 
Carl Bothe into his 
™? EFSft*™ 1 fl Wn fire I " 

/// Natures Workshop. 

By Grant Allen. 

LANTS sleep almost as truly 
as animals. To be sure, their 
sleep is a trifle less obtrusive 
—plants never snore : but it 
is quite real for all that, and 
its reality can be shown, as I- 
hope to show it here, in a great many 
instances. Perhaps the best-marked form of 
slumber in the vegetable world is that of the 
greit winter rest, when so many species retire 
altogether under the sheltering soil, and 
there lie dormant, side by side with the 
slumbering animals. We all know that when 
winter approaches the sleek dormouse retreats 
into his snug nook, a woven nest of warm 
grasses just above the ground, where he 
dozes away the cold weather in a state of 
unconsciousness. Squirrels similarly hiber- 
nate in the holes of tree-trunks ; while bears 
grow fat in autumn, and after sleeping the 
winter through, emerge in April mere wasted 
shadows of their October selves. As to the 
cold-blooded animals, such as newts and 
lizards, snakes and adders, they dream away 
the chilly months, like the Seven Sleepers of 
Ephesus, coiled up in tangles among the 
banks and hedges. The lesser creatures — 
snails, and beetles, and grubs, and so 
forth — hibernate underground or conceal 
themselves in the crannies of rocks and 
walls. But how does this long winter 
rest of animals differ, after all, from 
the winter rest of the crocus or the 
hyacinth, which withdraw all the living 
material from their leaves in autumn, and 
bury themselves inches deep in the soil in 
the shape of a bulb, till February rains or 
April suns tempt leaves and flowers out again ? 
The whole vast class of bulbous and tuberous 
plants, indeed — the lilies, orchids, daffodils, 
narcissi, tulips, squills, blue-bells, and 
snow-drops — ave they not just hibernating 
creatures, which retire underground in 
autumn with the slugs and the queen wasps, 
to reappear in spring about the same time 
with the return to upper air of the moles, the 
tortoises, and the fritillary butterflies ? 

In the case of pond plants and pond 
animals, in particular, this close similarity of 
habit is especially evident. I have pointed 
out in this magazine already how the frogs 
and newts betake themselves to the depths 
before the surface freezes over ; and how at 
the^same time, when the whirligig beetles and 
the tapering pond-snails go below to hiber- 
nate, the buds of the frogbit and the growing 
shoots of the curled pondweed similarly 
detach their ends from the dying stems so 
as to bury themselves safely in the un- 
frozen mud of the oozy bottom. But it 
may not strike everyone that much the same 
sort of winter sleep, for plants as for animals, 
is common on land too. When the squirrel 
retires into winter quarters in the trunk of 
the oak, where he has stored up his hoard of 
acorns against the dead season, does not the 
? ife of the oak itself do just the same thing? 
Does not the tree, too, fall asleep till the 
succeeding summer ? I say " the life of the 
oak " in the most literal sense : for, remember, 
the protoplasm or living matter in the green 
leaves is withdrawn, before they fall, into the 
vital layer just below the bark ; and there it 
sleeps away the winter, protected by its over- 
coat of cork-like material from the fierce 
frosts that would otherwise kill it. Indeed, 
it is only the dead skeleton of the leaf that 
drops on the ground : the life remains and 
hides in the trunk or branches. The withered 
leaf is like the sloughed skin of the snake, 
the cast shell of the lobster, the empty pupa- 
case of the butterfly. Nay, more, one may 
say roughly that almost all trees and shrubs 
or perennial herbs hibernate — become dor- 
mant in winter : but some of them conceal 
their living protoplasm in bulbs or tubers 
which they bury underground, while others 
store it in the stem or trunk, wrapped warmly 
up in a thick vegetable blanket. 

Even evergreens sleep, though not quite so 
openly. Take two familiar contrasted cases. 
The Scotch fir and the larch are closely 
related : but the larch, a native of wind- 
swept heights in central Europe and northern 




Asia, would have its slender branches broken 
and its swaying trunk snapped by the weight 
of snow which they would be compelled to 
sustain if the leaves persisted on the tree 
through the winter, besides running a good 
chance of being blown down in every big 
storm ■ so it has acquired the habit (very 
unusual among conifers) of shedding its cast- 
off leaves In autumn like the oak and the 
elm, after it has hidden away their vital con- 
tents in the living layer. In this way, it 
comparatively escapes the heavy load of snow 
it must otherwise bear, and also presents 
a far smaller expanse of resisting surface to 
the wintry Tyrolese and Siberian tempests. 
The Scotch fir, on the other hand, a stouter tree 
with stronger branches, can endure the heavy 
load of snow, which it shifts often enough as 
the wind strikes it ; so it has evergreen 
leaves, like most of its class ; but" these 
needle-like leaves are thick-skinned and 
covered with a protective glassy glaze which 
effectually guards the living matter within 
from the frosts of 
January. Large- 
leaved evergreens^ 
like the common 
laurel and the rhodo- 
dendron, have a 
similar glassy layer 
to protect their 
foliage : but they are 
more southern types ; 
our northern winter 
tries them often, and 
in severe seasons 

they get terribly frost- 
bitten. Even these 
evergreens them- 
selves thus sleep, 
though unobtru- 
sively : that is to say, 
their life is really 
sus[)ended more or 
less during the winter 
months, though the 
living material is 
then exposed in the 
leaves, instead of being withdrawn into the 
hark as in the larch, or into a bulb or tuber 
as in the tulip and the crocus. 

But besides this yearly winter sleep or 
hibemition a great many plants also sleep 
every night : In other words, they suspend 
more or less their usual activities, and devote 
themselves to rest and recuperation. For 
what do we mean by sleep? Well, I4r, 
Herbert Spencer has admirably defined it as 
"the period when repair predominates over 

I,— ItkAMH OP smu>SA t THfc LKAK AWAKE, 

waste. >J During our waking times, we walk, 
work, waste- -use up the living material of 
the body : in our sleeping hours, we rebuild 
and restore it. Now this is not quite true 
to the same extent of plants : though even 
plants in certain senses grow more by night 
than by day. Vet it is true in the main that 
plants suspend in their sleeping hours a great 
many functions which they carry on while 
they wake : and that the sleeping time is 
mostly devoted to repair and growth, not to 
active intercourse with external nature. By 
day, plants eat : by night, they utilize and 
arrange what they Irnve eaten. 

My illustration No. i shows the leaf of a 
mimosa bush in its waking moments. You 
would call it at first sight rather a branch 
than a leaf, no doubt ; but in that you would 
be mistaken : it is really one much-divided 
leaf, though not by any means a simple one ; 
and when it fails ofF> it falls off from the base 
like a single structure. It is, in point of 
fact, a very compound leaf, split up into 

four main parts, each 
of which is again sub- 
divided into many 
opposite pairs of 
leaflets. Now, in 
No. i here, the leaf 
is seen as it looks 
when expanded in 
the broad daylight : 
it is hard at work 
eating and drinking 
for the benefit of the 
plants it absorbs, by 
all its hundred little 
mouths or leaflets, 
the carbonic acid of 
the surrounding air, 
which it converts, 
under the influence 
of sunlight, into suit- 
able plant -food. It 
thus works in the 
daylight just as truly 
as the busy bee 
works when it 
gathers honey : just as truly as the ant works 
when it collects dead meat and scraps of ant- 
provender : just as truly as the kingfisher 
works when it darts down upon the trout 3 or 
a-s the fly-catcher works when it swoops upon 
the flies that flit about in the garden. All these 
are diurnal plants and animals ; they utilize, 
as l)r. Watts succinctly puts it, "each shining 
hour " : and they rest when night comes from 
their daily labours. For remember^ a plant 
can only eat h% proper food, carbonic acid> 




while the light falls upon it ; at night it must 
sleep, digest, and distribute what it has eaten* 

No* 2 shows us a larger branch of the same 
mimosa bush, with two such compound 
leaves, seen as they look when folded up in 
sleep during the dark 
hours of the evening* 
Not only the famous 
and well-known Sensi- 
tive Plant sleeps like 
this, but also many 
other kinds of mimosa 
and acacia much culti- 
vated in our green- 
houses. It is a pretty 
sight to see them falling 
gradually asleep — 
dozing off, if 1 may be 
allowed that familiar ex- 
pression. First of all 
the opposite pairs of 
leaflets fold together 
upward, so as to present 
a single combined sur- 
face, like that of a 
hinged tablet when you 
shut its halves together. 
Then the four main 
leaf-stalks on which the 
leaflets are fixed sink 
slowly down like a sleepy 
child, and double them- 
selves away out of the 
range of danger. Last 
of all, the principal leaf- 
stalk or main mid -rib 
of the whole branch- 
like leaf itself droops 
and drops drowsily, and 
the entire structure hangs limp, as if dead, 
against the branch that supports it In No, 2 
you can see a pair of such four-branched 
leaves sound asleep in their pendent attitude. 
Each of these, w T hen expanded, would 
resemble the open and active leaf in No. 1. 
You can see for yourself that the waking leaf 
is obviously equipped for work and action, 
while the sleeping leaves are quite as obviously 
arranged for rest and recuperation. You can 
also observe in No, 2 the main leaf-stalk or 
mid-rib of a third leaf, which is hanging 
down unseen, out of the field of the drawing. 

The machinery for producing these curious 
sleep-movements is situated in certain very 
irritable little knobs at the base of the leaf- 
stalk, one of which you can observe close to 
the stem in the case of the lowest leaf-stalk 
(with Its leaf unseen) in No. 2. The 
mechanism acts much like a nervous system : 

VoL Krii— 3Q. 


it governs the movements and attitudes of 
the leaf by night or day. In the true Sensi- 
tive Plants, the leaflets fold up out of harm's 
way when touched. In most mimosas and 
acacias, however, they only fold at night, or 
in very cold or dark 
weather* Their folding 
is partly effected for the 
sake of warmth, because 
they then expose only 
one surface of each leaf; 
it may be compared to 
the way in which mice 
and other animals curl 
up in their nests, or to 
the habit of snakes in 
lying coiled up in holes, 
knotted together one 
with the other. But it 
is partly also done for 
physiological reasons : 
the plant rebuilds itself 
in sleep just as truly as 
the animal, and this pos- 
ture seems to suit its 
growing and redistri- 
buting activities. 

In No. 3 we have a 
branch of that common 
and beautiful little 
English wild-flower, the 
wood-sorrek The plant 
is here represented wide 
awake in the daytime, 
its blossom expanded 
to court the insects 
that fertilize it, and 
its leaves wide open, 
drinking in its gaseous 
food as fast as they can drink it. Wood- 
sorrel is a tender and thin-textured spring 
herb; a chill is therefore highly prejudicial 
to. its health : without being exactly delicate 
— for in a certain sense wood-sorrel may 
even be called hardy— it feels the need for 
taking care of itself. Severe cold nips it 
up : even gentle frosts have a bad effect upon 
it. But the wise herb has arranged against 
such adverse chances by the peculiar disposi- 
tion of its dainty wan foliage. The leaves 
are composed of three leaflets each, and 
even at a casual glance, something about 
their mid-ribs might suggest to you the idea 
that they were intended for folding. And so 
they are. They fold quaintly downward - 
not one against the other, as in the mimosa, 
but half of each leaflet against the other half. 
In the sunshine and the warmth they expand 

to \^i«m^Mi^AW No - 3; when 



3— wood-sorbel; the flower and leaves both awake. 

night falls they fall too, as you can observe 
in No. 4, where both leaves and flowers are 
fast asleep, resting after the arduous labours 
of the day in a profound slumber. 

If you consider what the parts are 
doing in each case you will realize that 
day differs from night for the plant exactly 
as it differs for the animal — the one 
being a period of direct intercourse with 
external nature, and the other a period of 
repose, growth, and internal restoration. For 
during the daytime, the wood-sorrcl swallows 
or sucks in with its leaves such carbonic acid 
as the wind brings its way, and then exposes 
it in the full sunlight to be assimilated and 
rendered useful : but by night it folds its 
leaves, just as the shopkeeper puts up his 
shutters or the mill stops work ; it keeps 
them warm by contact with one another ; 
and it begins to use up the material it has 
eaten for growth and development. Similarly 
with the dainty white lilac-streaked flowers : 
during the day they open their slender 
petals, hold up their heads, and receive 
the visits of the insects upon whom 
they depend for fertilization : but when 
night comes, and the insects have gone to 
bed, it is no use hanging out the sign any 
longer, so to speak— for the petals are just 
sign- boards to attract the eyes of the insect 
cus t o m ers . Van on s misf ort u nes mighthappen 
to the flower in the cold spring nights, if 
it still kept open. The frost might nip up 
and wilt the petals ; rain might fall and wash 
away the honey or the pollen : wind might 
disperse the fruitful golden grains, intended 
for the seed-vessels of sister blossoms. So 
the prudent plant imitates the little beasts 

which curl themselves up in their holes : it 
makes the flower hang its head and close its 
petals, so as to imprison warm air within its 
bell-shaped hollow. In this position, it is safest 
from rain, which can neither fill the cup so as to 
break the stem, nor dilute the honey, nor waste 
the pollen. Thus, all night long, the wood- 
sorrel suspends its business intercourse with 
the outer world, and retires upon itself for 
rest and recuperation ; when morning comes 
again, it opens its leaflets to drink in the air 
and the sun, and lifts its flowers once more to 
attract the insects. Alike for warmth, for 
safety, and for economy, it sleeps by night ; 
it wakes by day > and engages actively in the 
business of its existence. 

I may add that we know otherwise how 
particularly necessary is heat to the wood- 
sorreL If you examine the under-side of the 
winter leaves — I mean those few old leaves 
which manage to struggle on from the 
preceding year through an English January 
— you will find that they are distinctly 
reddish or purple. Now, chemists have 
shown us that this red or purple 
colouring matter which is spread on the 
under- side of the foliage in many plants 
is a substance with a curious power of catch- 
ing the remnant of such light-rays as pass 
unused through the green cells of the leaf, 
and transforming them into heat-rays. To 
put it plainly, the red pigment is a warmth- 
catcher, a machine for transmuting light into 
heat. You therefore find it most often on 


the under-side of many early spring plants, 
which naturally need all the heat they can 
get, as well as on aquatic herbs like the 
water-lUie^. 1^?,9$£- updef -surface is constantly 



chilled (even in summer) by contact with the 
cold water. For example, the cyclamens so 
commonly grown in drawing-room windows 
in winter have bright purple under-sides to 
their leaves, because they grow and flower in 
the coldest months : so has an exotic wood- 
sorrel, which is a favourite pot-plant with 
cottagers, and which goes to sleep every night 
of its life, even more conspicuously than our 
wild English species. In every case where 
you light upon purple or red colouring matter 
abundantly present in leaves or shoots (as in 
sprouting peonies, and spring growth of rose- 
bushes), you may at least suspect that warmth 
is ics principal purpose. Nature does nothing 
in vain : there is always a reason in the 
merest detail. 

But you may ask, " Why do not all leaves 
equally go to sleep at night ? Why have you 
thus to pick out a few select examples?" 
The answer is, all leaves do ; but some of 
them sleep more conspicuously and visibly 
than others. The cases in which you can 
see that they sleep are those of plants with 
thin and delicate foliage, where the leaves or 
leaflets gain mutual protection against radia- - 
tion and cold by putting themselves, so to 
speak, two layers thick. Very dainty spring 
foliage shows sleep most obviously : very 
thick and coarse leaves, like those of the 
cyclamen, the rhododendron, the Siberian 
saxifrage, or the common laurel, sleep with- 
out folding ; they have warmth enough or 
glassy covering enough to resist injury. 
Here again we can see the analogy between 
the nightly and the winter sleep : thin-leaved 
trees shed their leaves in autumn : thick- 
leaved kinds, such as laurustinus, spruce-fir, 
and laurel, retain them unshed through the 
entire winter. 

The sleep of flowers is even more con- 
spicuous and more readily aroused than the 
sleep of leaves. Blossoms are delicate and 
much exposed. Foliage for the most part 
sleeps by night only : but flowers take casual 
naps now and again when danger looms in 
the daytime. This is only what one might 
expect ; for the flower is usually the part of 
the plant which does the most varied external 
business and holds the most specialized inter- 
course with the rest of nature. The leaf has 
relations with the sun and the air alone ; but 
the flower has to attract and satisfy all sorts 
of fastidious and capricious insect assistants : 
it has to produce pollen, honey, and seeds : 
it has to provide for its own fertilization and 
that of its neighbours. Hence, it may have 
to wake or sleep in accordance with the con- 
venience of the outer world : just as a railway 

porter or a club servant must get up and go 
to bed, not when he chooses himself, but 
when his employers choose to make him. 
The rule with flowers is this : they open the 
shop when customers are most likely to drop 
in ; they shut it when there is nobody about 
and when valuable goods like honey and 
pollen run a risk of getting damaged. 

The purple crocus, illustrated in its work- 
ing hours in No. 5, is an early spring flower 
which has to open under considerable dis- 
advantages. It lays by material during the 
previous summer in an underground bulb, 
sleeps the winter through, and pushes up its 
head in the very early spring, at a time when 
frost and snow are still extremely probable. 
All such early spring plants, I need scarcely 
say, are naturally hardy : they also wrap 
themselves up warm in blankets and over- 
coats. The crocus bud when it first emerges 
is folded tight (like an Indian pappoose or 
an Italian bambino) in a neat and com- 
modious papery coverlet : it only peeps 
out of its close-fitting mummy-case when 
the weather promises a chance of success- 
ful flowering. A little break of warmth 
in February or March, however, suffices for 
its purpose. It will unfold its purple corolla 
gaily in the sun, and flaunt its golden-yellow 
stigma in the midst of the blue cup to allure 
its winged allies to the store of honey. 

These allies are all of them bees, dozens of 
whom venture out on the prowl on sunny 
days through the whole winter. It is for 
them that the gorse hangs out its nutty- 
scented flowers : for them that the crocuses, 
golden or purple, expand their chalices. As 
long as the sun shines, in spite of cold east 
winds, the bees bury themselves deep in the 
tempting blossoms, dust their hairy thighs with 
quantities of pollen, and rub it off against the 
feathery and sticky stigmas of the next flower 
they visit. But spring sunshine is not a joy 
to count upon. Great white clouds roll up 
and obscure the clear blue sky ; a cold wind 
accompanies them ; the bees hurry off, full- 
laden, to their hives or their underground 
nests ; rain, sleet, or snow threatens. The 
prudent crocus perceives that all chance of 
business is over for the present, and, like a 
booth-keeper at a fair, when the crowd has 
gone, it proceeds to shut up its shop and 
take care of its merchandise. And it is well 
advised, for its shape renders it peculiarly 
liable to damage from rain or sleet when 
open ; so it closes its corolla, as you see in 
No. 6, making the folded lobes do duty as an 
umbrella. If rain or snow comes, it is thus 
effectually protected : the pollen is not washed 

UHIY \-T\J\ I I 



away, nor is the large and fleshy stigma ruined. 
You will find these tactics common among 
cup-shaped or chalice -shaped flowers like 
the crocus and the tulip : they nev^r occur 


among bell-shaped hanging flowers, like the 
harebell or the wild hyacinth, where the 
whole blossom, being turned downward and 
entered from below, forms a perpetual um- 
brella to guard its own pollen and its own 
honey from stress of weather. These last 
are a higher and more evolved type, belong- 
ing for the most part to very advanced and 
progressive families. 

Most spring flowers, however, in their 
anxiety to attract the few insect visitors 
who are about at that treacherous period of 
the year, keep open door, and spread their 
blossoms, eupdike, upward. Examples, other 
than the crocus and the tulip, are the winter 
aconite, the buttercup, the wood-anemone, 
the Alpine gentians, the globe-flower, and the 
hepatica. Most of these early flowers shut 
up for every passing cloud, and open again 
for every gleam of sunshine. They are hard 
at work all the time, opening and shutting as 
the weather changes. On a typical April 
day I have often noticed the yellow crocuses 
expand and close half-a-dozen times over, 

A great many flowers which have the 
honey and pollen openly exposed in this 
cup-like way are much given to closing, even 
in summer, for every cloud that passes, 
because they are naturally so afraid of being 

spoiled by a wetting. This is particularly 
the case with the wheel- shaped forms — those, 
I mean, with open flat saucers like the 
common pimpernels. An old English name 
for our little red pimpernel is " shepherd's 
weather-glass," because it opens its eyes in 
the broad sunlight, but closes them at once 
in shade or when a cloud passes. Plants of 
this type sleep all night long habitually, but 
also take a gentle doze every now and again 
w T hen danger lowers. So fowls have been 
known to go to roost during a total eclipse 
of the sun, and many small birds settle 
themselves to sleep in dark and gloomy 

In No, 7 we have a branch of the common 
wild geranium or herb-robert, a well-known 
English weed, which exhibits this peculiarity 
in a marked degree. Here you see three 
flowers awake and expanded, with their 
pretty purple petals (marked by darker lines 
or honey-guides) flaunting in the sun as ad- 
vertisements to the insects. The lines on 
the petals are not there for mere ornament \ 
they point straight to the honey, and so save 
the time of the visitor, by showing him at once 
where he should stick his inquisitive proboscis 
in search of it. But No. 8 exhibits the very 
same branch in the evening or when clouds are 
obscuring the sun. Danger now looms : a 
shower threatens. So what does the fright- 
ened wikf geranium do? Observe that th*; 


overblown flowers, the buds, and the leaves 
retain their positions as before : rain cannot 
hurt them. But. the three open flowers 
bend their heads against the storm, instead 




of closing their petals : 
they convert themselves 
into an umbrella, thus 
temporarily imitating 
the tactics of the blue- 
bells and the snow- 
drops. By this simple 
device, the honey and 
jx>llen are secured from 
danger. When day or 
sunshine returns, the 
geranium raises its 
lolling heads again, 
because its flowers are 
small and inconspicu- 
ous : they depend upon 
minor insect visitors — 
flies or the like— and 
cannot afford to do 
without the display of 
their purple upper-side, 
like the far more noticeable hyacinths and 

A different method of compassing the same 
result is seen in that queer English weed, the 
carline thistle. It is a very common plant on 
our chalk downs, and on many dry hillsides : 
it abounds, for example, on Box Hill : and 
yet, if you are not a botanist, I greatly doubt 
whether you will ever have noticed it. For 
it is a curious creature which always looks 
dead, even when it is most alive : you can 
see it in No, 9 much as in real life, only you 
must remember that its 
colour is almost that of a 
dry dead thistle. Its leaves 
are cottony ; its flowers 
are dingy in hue ; and its 
general aspect is suggestive 
of death, decay, and dis- 
solution. Vet it is really 
very much alive : and its 
form is so admirably 
adapted to its place in 
nature, that I think before 
I describe its mode of 
sleeping I must first devote 
a few lines in passing to 
its other dodges for picking 
up an honest livelihood. 

The carline grows only 
on dry fields, high open 
sheep-walks, and sandhills 
by the sea. All these 
places are, of course, much liable to be 
browsed over by sheep, cattle, donkeys, and 
other animals, not forgetting the destruc- 
tive rabbit and that strangest of all prazers, 
the goose — a bird which puts itself into 



competition with the 
herbivorous ruminants, 
and crops the meadows 
with its bill shorter and 
closer than any of them 
with their teeth. Now, 
all plants which live 
under such conditions 
are obliged to adopt 
protective measures 
against animal depre- 
dators. Most of them 
are prickly : such are 
gorse, blackthorn, and 
the common thistles : 
nay, there are even 
certain herbs, like the 
pretty pink rest-harrow, 
which are unarmed 
when they grow in 
inclosed meadows, but 
which produce a special prickly variety when 
they occupy spots exposed to donkeys, 
rabbits, and geese, the worst and deadliest 
of grazing enemies. Other plants defend 
themselves in subtler ways, by bitter juices, 
or by unpleasant hairs dotted about over 
their surface. Yet others, like the subter- 
ranean clover, bury their ripening pods 
underground, so that their seeds at least 
may escape the keen -eyed depredators. 
The thistles of rich meadows have long 
stalks and rise a foot or two high : 
but on the fine sward of 
chalk downs, a special 
species has been deve- 
loped, known as the Stem- 
less Thistle, which consists 
simply of a rosette of 
prickly leaves, in whose 
midst a compact head of 
flowers lies pressed close 
to the ground, and well 
protected by the prickly 
points of the leaves 
around it. Indeed, the 
whole nibbled turf of the 
downs consists everywhere 
of creeping or low-growing 
plants, specially designed 
to flower and fruit, and 
so reproduce their kind, 
in spite of the murderous 
assaults of animals to 
which they are continually subjected. 

It is in the midst of such a stunted world 
as this that the carline has to carve itself out 
a niche in nature. Its leaves, as you can 



ground, looking almost as if they had been 
trodden into it —a peculiarity still more 
noticeable in the specialized form of plan- 
tain evolved in chalk country, on whose 
lawns it is a weed much hated by gar- 
deners. These leaves are intensely prickly, 
with long and rigid spines protecting them 
at all angles from the attacks of nibblers. 
The whole carline plant is remarkably rigid 
and juiceless ; in winter it looks absolutely 

florets of a daisy or a chrysanthemum. But 
when the air becomes damp, the bracts, which 
are highly sensitive to moisture, curl up of 
themselves, as you see in No. 10, and form a 
sort of hut or shed above the true flowers in 
the centre. The conical tent or pent-house 
thus produced makes a shelter against the 
impending rain, which would wash away the 
pollen and dissolve the honey. The illustra- 
tion shows you very well the general arrange- 


dead, but revives again in spring as if by a 
miracle. In the centre of the rosette of 
spiny leaves a flower-head develops, looking 
at first sight like a single flower, but consisting 
really of many tubular bells, clustered together 
in a round group, and inclosed by an 
involucre or prickly basket of bracts. The 
inner bracts of this basket are long, slender, 
and ray-like : in texture they are thin and 
shining like straw, while in hue they are of a 
pale straw-colour, so that they add altogether 
to the dead-alive aspect of the plant. But 
when these shining straw-coloured bracts are 
spread out horizontally in the sunlight, forming 
a crown about the true flowers or little bells 
in the centre* they produce precisely the 
effect of petals* and serve the same purpose 
in attracting the notice of the fertilizing 
insects. No. 9 shows you the aspect of the 
carline in these its most alluring moments, 
when it is laying itself out to be agreeable to 

That is the attitude it always adopts in 
bright dry weather, when the winged guests 
on which it depends for fruiting are around 
and active* Its bracts then spread out like 
the rays of a star, and mimic the true ray- 

men t of the plant and its parts, consisting 
outside of a rosette of spinous leaves, and 
inside of a basket or involucre to guard the 
flowers : this involucre itself being once more 
composed of two distinct parts ; the outer 
layer of prickly and protective bracts, designed 
to ward off browsing enemies, and the inner 
layer of thin, dry bracts, with a shiny texture 
like that of everlastings designed in dry 
weather to play the part of petals, and in wet 
to rise up as an umbrella or rain- shelter. 

The word carline is good old English for a 
withered old woman, a wizened witch, and it 
is very aptly applied to this curious and 
tattered grey weather-beaten species. Robert 
Burns applies it to the hags whose orgies 
were interrupted by Tarn o J Shanter, 

Most plants and most animals sleep by 
night and wake by day. But there are of 
course a number of kinds, both in the animal 
and vegetable world, which find it pays them 
best to be nocturnal. Day is the time when 
most enemies are abroad : therefore, to get 
the better of the enemies, it may be well to 
sleep by day and turn out in the twilight. 
Defenceless species, no doubt, begin the game : 
they fly abroad in the dusk to secure safety 



from birds and other aggressive foes, That 
is the policy of the moths, the fireflies, 
the mosquitoes^ and many other night-flying 
insects. Then the hats and the night-jars 
discover in turn that it is worth while to 
prowl about at night, in order to swoop down 
upon the insects which have thus tried to 
escape from the swifts, the swallows, the 
martins, and the fly-catehers. Similarly, the 
smaller mammals, such as mice and shrews. 

greater certainty than if it had to compete 
with the ruck that opens every morning. 
So a great many flowers have taken the 
hint and laid themselves out for thts twilight 
blossoming. I will give you one simple 
example first, and then pass on to more 
complex cases. 

Everybody knows the common English 
red campion— the day lychnis, or Robin 
Hood as it is often called in the country* 



go out by night in search of beetles : and the 
owls follow in search of mice and shrews. 
Thus the larger half of nature is by habit 
diurnal, while the smaller half has become 
nocturnal, either to escape its enemies or to 
capture its prey- It is like the human case 
of guns and armour : we make armour-plated 
ironclads so thick that no gun can pierce 
them ; then we invent new guns which can 
pierce even the impenetrable armour. 
Nature is one vast game of check and 
countercheck : it consists of devices in- 
tended to outwit other devices, and them- 
selves outwitted in turn by devices sri!l more 
stringent or more marvellously cunning. 

Now plants too have followed the general 
fashion of producing nocturnal types, wher- 
ever the circumstances rendered it desirable 
for them to do so. The night-flying moths 
are in many cases honey-eaters, therefore 
they may be utilized as carriers of pollen by 
any enterprising plant that chooses to lay 
itself out for securing their services. Here 
are so many Fickford's vans, as it were, 
going begging : the plant that chooses to 
flower at night and close by day will be able 
to get its fertilization done cheap, with 

It is a pretty pink flower, scentless and 
somewhat weedy, and it grows abundantly 
in hedgerows all over England. It is pink f 
because it is principally fertilized by day- 
flying butterflies, which love bright colour : 
it needs no perfume, because its brilliant 
hue is sufficient advertisement for all practical 
purposes. But it has a very near relation, 
almost exactly like it save in two respects : 
and this relation is the white evening 
lychnis or night-flowering campion. It 
differs from the red campion t first in colour, 
and second in being delicately and per- 
vasively scented. Why ? Because it opens 
its blossoms about five or six in the evening, 
in order to catch the night-flying moths. 
These moths are chiefly attracted by white 
flowers, which show up best in the grey dusk 
of evening \ and they are also guided very 
largely by scent, so that blossoms which lay 
themselves out for the patronage of moths 
are almost always heavily perfumed, 

A few more examples will show you some 
other peculiarities of this group of night- 
blooming moth-alluring blossoms. Everybody 
now knows the so-called H tobacco-plant J * or 

^"fiHiWfflfrff Mfetfl ltivated of late 



in gardens. This 
beautiful and grace- 
ful flower closes 
during the day, but 
opens at nightfall, 
when its pure white 
blossoms become 
strongly scented. If 
you are at all in the 
habit of noticing 
flowers, too, you 
must have observed 
that the " tobacco- 
plant " is almost self- 
luminous in the 
dusk : it glows with 
a strange phosphor- 
escent light, as if 
illuminated from 
within. This is the 

case with many nocturnal flowers, and I sus- 
pect (though I do not know) that the property 
is connected with their insect-eating habits, 
about which more by-and-by. Again, you 
may note that there are a large number of 
similar night -flowering plants, all of them 
moth - fertilized, such as gardenia, white 
jasmine, tuberose, stephanotis, night-flowering 
cereus, and so forth. All of these are pure 
white, and all of them are heavily scented 
with very similar perfumes* Moreover (and 
this is a curious coincidence), none of them 
have any streaks, spots, or lines on their 
petals. The reason is simple* Such streaks 
or lines are always honey-guides s to lead the 
insect straight to the nectary. Day insects 
see such lines and are greatly influenced by 
them : but at night 
they would be useless, 
so their place is taken 
by scent and by deep 
tubes, which make a 
dark spot near the 
centre of the blossom. 
What night flowers 
need most is a bright 
white surface which 
will reflect all the 
small light they can 
get : and this I suspect 
they sometimes supple- 
ment by a faint phos- 

The Nottingham 
Catchfly, which you see 
asleep by day in No. i r, 
is a highly developed x- 


example of these 
nocturnal flowers. 
During the daytime 
it covers its blossoms 
by bending its petals 
inward, so as to 
preserve its honey 
from casual diurnal 
visitors, and keep it 
till night for the 
regular customers. 
At evening it opens 
them again, as you see 
in No. is, display- 
ing its brilliant white 
inner surface, which 
is dazzling in its 
purity- B u t why ? y ou 
may ask ? does it not 
avail itself of the day 
insects as well ? Because they are not 
the ones specially fitted to do its work : 
their heads are not of the right shape : the 
Nottingham Catchfly has laid itself out for 
special moths, and has so formed its blossoms 
that those moths can fertilize it most easily 
and most economically. It is a good example 
of a highly developed type, specially fitted 
for a particular visitor. 

The name of Catchfly, again, it owes to an 
odd peculiarity which it shares with many 
other nocturnal flowers. The top of the 
stem at the flowering period is covered with 
sticky hairs, which have glands at their tips : 
and these glands exude a peculiar viscid 
liquid. Small flies light on the stem, and are 
caught by the sort of bird-lime thus prepared 
for them ; the plant 
then digests them and 
sucks their juices. I 
do not know whether 
my next guess is cor- 
rect or not— I am not 
chemist enough myself 
to verify it : but I am 
inclined to conjecture 
that the plant uses up 
the phosphates in the 
bodies of the insects in 
order to produce the 
peculiar luminous ap- 
pearance of the petals 
in the twilight. I leave 
this/ hint for those of 
my readers whose 
chemical skill may be 
greater than mine is. 


moht, .km . TS mot B5 «* W jr?-ERSITY OF MICHIGAN 

By E. M. Jameson, 

USK had fallen upon the lonely 
stretches of Dartmoor. Grey 
mists swept round the summits 
of the tors and lay thick and 
impenetrable in the valleys 
below, and little by little the 
landmarks were blotted from view. 

Something as grey as the shadows crawled 
from a cleft in one of the tors and, as if with 
every nerve quickened, stood upright to 
listen. Not a sound broke the stillness; in 
the whole of that vast solitude not a creature 
seemed to stir, and the man in grey, as he 
looked around him, drew a long breath of 

All day, from his eyrie in the furrowed side 
of the rock, he had seen men scouring the 
moor, beating about as if for game, and 
passing within a few yards of their quarry's 
hiding-place. So close, indeed, that once he 
cowered back with a sick apprehension that 
sent great drops of moisture coursing down 
his face, enduring the torture of the eternally 
lust at the thought of recapture. 

The searchers had gone, but the convict 
knew that, for a certainty, the kingdom must 
be ringing with his miraculous escape, and 
that far and near he would be looked for. 
Better a thousand times to die here in the 

Vol. xviL— 37. 

open than be retaken. He glanced around 
him desperately. The wide road that 
traversed the moor was hardly distinguishable 
in the gloom, He must keep away from the 
beaten track and trust in Providence, 

Providence f He smiled at the word ; but 
it was easier of belief here in the open, with 
the keen, pure atmosphere setting his senses 
quivering with the joy of living, than there, 
His eyes turned in the direction of Prince- 
town, not many miles away, and he 

To the luxurious man of the world, twelve 
months of a convict's life had seemed a 
century, and there would be many and many 
and many a year to follow. His hand sought 
mechanically in his breast for the fragment of 
rope he had picked up near his hiding-place. 
There were other means of escape after all. 
To rid himself of his tell-tale apparel was the 

He crept down the rugged side of the tor 
half fearfully, every rustle of the heather 
against his foot making him start The 
hunger which all day had been so acute as 
to be painful had now become an aching 
sensation that did not greatly trouble him. 

He felt almost r;av by the time he had 



from breaking into a whistle. He was young 
and strong, and the shame and degradation 
fell away from him, He kept as close as he 
could to the road, and presently, seeing a 
fairly wide footpath, he passed down it and 
came to a large iron gate. He pressed his 
face against the bars and looked in, making 
out the form of a long, low house against the 
lighter glimmer of the sky. Coming towards 
him was the light of carriage-lamps. 

He crouched among the brake ; a groom 
got down, and the gate swung open. In the 
momentary pause the watcher heard a 
pleasant, cultivated man's voice, either that 
of the driver or his companion, say : — 

41 Then the little chap doesn't mind being 
left to his own devices ? It's rather dull for 
him, isn't it ? J) 

"I suppose so," replied another voice, 
irritably; "but he's used to it, poor little 
beggar After all, a man must dine out now 
and then.' 3 

The mare plunged forward and the gate 
swung to with a click. The listener's pulses 
beat at lightning speed. Here was his 

He made his way rapidly up the drive, 

room. He stood in the middle of the floor, 
his face puckered into a perplexed frown. 
He was dressed in the most incongruous 
fashion, like a miniature clown. Though 
time-pressed* Geoffrey Borradaile could not 
refrain from looking at the child, his be- 
haviour was so funny. He bowed to an 
imaginary audience, then, giving a sudden 
twirl, endeavoured to stand on his head, 
Again and again he tried, only to fail as many 
times, atid the onlooker grew quite excited 
over the performance. So much so, indeed, 
that, forgetting where he was, he leant too 
heavily against the long French window, and 
it suddenly opened inward and precipitated 
him into the room. 

He found himself confronting the aston 
ished acrobat, from whom he momentarily 
expected to hear a cry of alarm* In former 
days Geoffrey had been beloved of animals 
and children, and this characteristic stood 
him in good stead now. The boy looked at 
him gravely, then his little face broke into a 

" Why, you're dressed up, too," he said, 
thrusting his hands into his baggy trousers 
as ho surveyed the man in grey ; " what fun ! 

listening at intervals* As he neared the 
house he saw a light glimmering from a long 
window at the left of the hall-door. The 
blind was only partly drawn, and he looked in. 
A little boy was the sole occupant of the 

Now there'll be two to pretend It's so dull 
by myself, though I make up a good deal as 
I go along.' 3 

The visitor took the cue at once. " So it 
is/ J he repli^fligiffi^tSfPSkme time looking 




round cautiously ; " but is there no one here 
to play with you ? " 

As he spoke he lowered the blind, an 
action which Teddy did not notice. The 
child shook his head. 

" Father's gone out to dinner, and so has 
Uncle Jack — Uncle Jack only came the day 
befofe yesterday. Nurse and cook are in 
the kitchen ; Kate— that's the housemaid — 
has gone to see her mother at Post Bridge ; 
and Courtman's out with the dog -cart. 
Courtman's really nicer than any of them." 

"Perhaps you are accustomed to playing 
by yourself?" 

Tears suddenly rose in Teddy's eyes, but 
he tried to blink them away before the visitor 
could see them. 

"There — there used to be mother, you 
know. Fathers are different somehow, aren't 
they ? They haven't time, I suppose ? " 
looking with wistful eyes at his visitor for 
confirmation of the fact. 

"Quite different; there's nothing in the 
whole world like a mother." Geoffrey was 
thinking of his own boyhood's days. 

A tear fell from Teddy's down-bent face on 
the carpet at the speaker's feet, but as it 
soaked in at once, Teddy hoped it had not 
been noticed. He rumpled his curly pate 
and heaved a sigh. 

" I say, what shall we play at ? " 

" You choose," replied the man in grey, 
his hearing always painfully on the alert for 
surprises. " I must say that I'm rather tired 
of this get-up — yours is so much better than 

" Well, yours is rather hideous," said 
Teddy, endeavouring to mingle candour with 
politeness ; " but then I suppose it's more un- 
common than mine. I had it for a fancy 
dress ball, and I'm going to another soon, 
when they make a new mayor, you know, and 
I do so want to be able to turn a somersault." 

" It would be useful." 

" I shall have to manage to learn some- 
how" said Teddy, with portentous gravity. 
"Bob Smith can turn beauties. I say," his 
eyes travelling afresh over the other's costume, 
" what are those things ? Something like the 
tops of toasting-forks." 

He broke into an infectious splutter of 
laughter, and Borradaile smiled in response, 
despite the torture of inaction. 

" I can't imagine why I chose this rig-out," 
he replied, keeping up the farce. " I wish I'd 
something else to put on." 

Teddy suddenly sprang into the air, his 
face red with excitement. 

" Why, there are heaps and heaps of things 

upstairs ; let's go and get some, and then 
perhaps you'd teach me to turn a somer- 
'sault ? I can nearly do it — you'd only have 
to give me a shove at the right time. Do 
come along, only very quietly, or nurse will 
come, and I don't want her to." 

Nor did Borradaile ; and they stole across 
the hall and up the staircase, he taking off 
his heavy boots and carrying them under his 
arm, upon which Teddy, with a silent, burg- 
larious chuckle of enjoyment, sat on the 
bottom stair and removed his little patent 
leather house shoes, tucking them under his 
capacious scarlet and white sleeve. 

They had reached the top of the flight, 
when a voice from the hall below sent a 
sickening wave of terror over Borradaile. 

" Master Theodore, where are you ? " 

Teddy held up his finger, warningly, and 
advanced to the top of the stairs. 

" I'm here, nurse ; I've only come to get 
something out of father's room ; he said I 
could have it." 

" It's getting on for your bedtime, so don't 
be long up there. I'll put your supper in 
the study, unless you'd like to have it with 
cook and me in the kitchen." 

" I'm just not going to have it in the 
kitchen ; put it in the study, and father said 
I could have some chicken if I liked." 

The steps retreated again, to the accom- 
paniment of muttered remarks, and Teddy, 
having routed the enemy, led the way 
triumphantly to his father's room. 

" Nurse is so cross," lie explained, trying 
at the same time to drag a heavy box forward. 
" I'm too old for a nurse now. Bob Smith 
says it's rediclus. When we go home I shall 
be eight, and then I'll ask father if I can do 
without one." 

" Isn't this your home?" asked Borradaile, 
his eyes glancing quickly round the dimly- 
lighted, untidy bedroom. 

"One of 'em," replied Teddy; "the other's 
ever so much bigger ; but I had fever, and 
the doctor saicf I was to come here for 
change. Hasn't my hair grown ? You look 
as if you'd had fever, yours is so short." 

Borradaile reddened, and passed his hand 
over his close-cropped head. 

" I like short hair, Theodore/' 

Teddy began to laugh again, but fortu- 
nately, both in his utterances and his mirth, 
he kept up the rdle of burglar, and was very 
mysterious and silent. 

" So does father and Uncle Jack. Uncle 
Jack wears his nearly as short as you. But, 
I say, everybody except the servants, and 
even some of ;hem, call me Teddy." 




He had opened the trunk and now dis- 
played its contents, a heterogeneous collee- 
tion of costumes, for Teddy's father was 
great at theatricals, and in his time had 
played many parts. There was a box of 
cosmetics, at sight of which Borradaile's 
face brightened. Luck seemed superlatively 
good, so far ; surely it would not desert him 
now. Teddy, who had been watching his 
face % chuckled silently with pleasure, 

"Choose whatever you like/ 3 he said, 

revolver lying upon a side-table; he looked 
at it longingly, hesitated, then put it in his 
pocket. Then he stole to the head of the 
stairs and listened. The house was very 
quiet. He could hear Teddy humming softly 
to himself. 

He made his way to the study, and held 
up his hand just in time to prevent the boy's 

"You're so like Uncle Jack/' he said, 
walking round his guest, "and he just has 


smoothing a laced satin coat that lay upper- 
most, " then t when you're ready, we'll pre- 
tend." Borradaile had already made his 

11 Go down and wait for me, Teddy ; you 
seel want to surprise you,' 7 as the boy's face 
lengthened. u Don't say a* word to anyone, 
and I'll be with you in no time." 

Teddy nodded, and ran off cheerfully 
enough, his parti-coloured raiment flapping 
round him as he ran. 

In that other life which seemed so far 
away, Geoffrey Borradaile had also taken 
part in amateur theatricals. He changed 
characters now with a celerity he had never 
attained to in those days, donning the entire 
costume of a country gentleman which he 
found lying upon the bed just as his host had 
flung it, and leaving in exchange under the 
raiment in the trunk a suit of grey adorned 
with the broad arrow. There was a loaded 

that hroumy look. But why did you choose 
such a stupid get-up ? Let's have some 
supper, though* and then you'll teach me the 
somersault, won't you? Nurse is all right, 
because one of Farmer Giles's men has come 
in* The one she likes. Do he quick." 

There was chicken on the table, and 
bread-and-butter and new milk* Teddy was 
far too excited to eat, and at no time had he 
a large appetite, yet to this day nurse tells 
how a little boy of seven disposed of half a 
chicken and unlimited hi L-ad-and-butter at 
one meal 

Geoffrey Borradaile ate hastily. There was 
the somersault instruction to be given, and 
he had a code of honour still which made it 
difficult to disappoint and break faith with a 
child. Yet it was madness to stay. He rose, 
went to the door, and listened A subdued 

chatter, broken- by a .sEout of laughter, came 
Ehe kitfeM na H£°fflturned to Teddy, 

from the kit'er 



who had watched his movements with 

" I believe you Ye afraid of her yourself ! " 
he remarked, trying to balance a salt-spoon 
on the tip of his nose ; " she's a beast to me f 
but then she couldn't doym any harm." 

Borradaile made a sudden resolve. He 
placed the spoon on the table, and sitting 
down drew the boy to his knee. He sucmed 
to have taken another character with his 
tweeds and immaculate linen, and something 
in his expression reduced Teddy to preter- 
natural gravity, 

** See here, Teddy, one man ought to help 
another out of a fix ? " 

can harm your father, Teddy, or it wouldn't 
be fair to ask you— but I'm in danger. What 
is your father's name, by the way ? " 

"Brooke, Captain Brooke*" 

" Ronald Brooke, of the — th ? " 

" Yes ; he's not in the Army now. Do you 
know him ? " 

Borradaile's face had grown rigid and 
stern. He half put the boy away from him. 

11 1 met him — once," he said, in a strained, 
hard voice that made Teddy tremble ; " what 
was your mother's name ? * 

"Theodora," Teddy spoke almost timidly ; 
"isn't it pretty?" 

But the listener was listening no longer. 



Teddy nodded, his eyes fastened on the 
handsome, haggard face near Ms own. 

" That's what father said one day to Uncle 
Jack, only he said a tight place. It's the 
same as a fix, perhaps ? " 

"Exactly the same, Well, I'm in a tight 
place, a very tight place, my boy, and you're 
the man to help me out of it," 

Teddy's grey eyes darkened with pride ; he 

"Now," resumed Borradaile, "I don't want 
anybody to know IVe been here, not even 
your father if you can help it, for a few days. 
I'm afraid he'll have to, though, on account 
of his clothes. However, in a few hours I 
hope to b^ with friends, At* b, nothing that 

His thoughts had flown back over the space 
of a decade, to the time when his life had 
been bounded by a Theodora, the only girl 
he ever loved- She would have been faithful 
enough to the young lover whose wild oats 
were so plentiful a crop, but Ronald Brooke 
was rich and steady, even though he had the 
temper of a devil, and Theodora's constancy 
was overruled. 

He broke in upon his own thoughts by 
taking Teddy's face between his hands and 
searching with hungry, longing eyes for a 
trace of resemblance, Teddy wriggled 
himself free. Borradaile rose to his feet 

" I mu^'pjnBicfel^ITi Do you mind post- 




poning the somersault ? I'm sorry, but I 
have so far to go to-night" 

" I don't mind a bit about the somersault/' 
said Teddy, " but I wish you hadn't to go. 
We've had such fun, haven't we ? " 

Borradaile forced a smile. After all, what 
had been fun to the boy might mean death 
to him, and he could not agree very heartily. 
He opened the window quietly, 

"Good-bye, Teddy," he said ; "I shall 
never forget/' 

But Teddy was fumbling in a corner of 
the cupboard* and only nodded over his 
shoulder in response, Borradaile made way 
rapidly down the drive, and had reached 
the gate, when he heard quick, pattering 
footsteps hasten- 
ing after him. 

It was Teddy, 
out of breath. He 
thrust something 
into Borradaile ? s 

14 Here — I want 
you— to take this 
— you might be 
short. W h e n 
Uncle Jack's in a J 
tight place — he 
means he hasn't 
any money — and 
I thought — you 
mightn't either* 
Ifs mine — every 
bit, to do as I 
like with," 

Teddy felt himself swung up into a pair 
of strong arms and literally hugged, and in 
his surprise at finding something wet upon 
his cheek forgot to wish that his visitor's face 
had been less prickly. 

He was glad he had remembered what a 
tight place meant, but he stood for a moment 
somewhat forlornly in the drive swallowing a 
lump in his throat before turning to face 
nurse's probable scolding. What did he care 
for a scolding, when he had helped another 
man out of a tight place with his pillar-post 
money-box ? 

Geoffrey Borradaile had said he would not 

Each year there 
comes to Teddy 
on a certain date 
a red pillar-post 
money - box con- 
taining a remem- 
brance, trifling at 
first, but growing 
in value year by 

forget, and he never did. 


of the 

in the 

of one 

Australian sheep 
farmers, on a 
bracket above his 
easy-chair, stands 
the original red 
pillar- post, the 
founder of his 


by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 






WRITING in the August num- 
ber of The Strand about Mr, 
Gladstone's first speech in the 
House of Commons, I quoted a 
passage from a private letter, 
drawn from him on perusal of Mr* McCarthy's 
preface to White's u Inner Life of the House 
of Commons." The historian of (i Our Own 
Times " asserted that the speech fell utterly 
unnoticed. Mr. Gladstone, jealous for the 
fame of the young member for Newark, 
corrected this statement with the remark : 
"My maiden speech was noticed in debate 
in a marked manner by 
Mr. Stanley, who was in 
charge of the Bill/ 3 

Reading over again the 
memoirs of the Earl of 
Albemarle, published more 
than twenty years ago, and 
now forgotten, I came upon 
a passage vividly illustrat- 
ing contemporary opinion 
about this, now famous, 
then, in the main, unevent- 
ful^ epoch in Parliamentary 

" One evening, on taking 
my place," Lord Albemarle 
writes, M I found on his legs 
a beardless youth, with 
whose appearance and man 
ner I was greatly struck. 
He had an earnest, intelli- 
gent countenance, and 
large, expressive, black eyes. 
Young as he was he had 
evidently what is called 
'the ear of the House/ 
and yet the cause he advocated was not 
one likely to interest a popular assembly — 
that of the Planter verms the Slave. I had 
placed myself behind the Treasury Bench. 
* Who is he ? ' I asked one of the Ministers, 
I was answered, ' He is the member for 
Newark — a young fellow who will some day 
make a great figure in Parliament.' My 
informant was Edward Geoffrey Stanley, then 
Whig Secretary for the Colonies, and in charge 
of the Negro Emancipation Bill, afterwards 
Earl of Derby, The young Conservative 
orator was William Ewart Gladstone — two 
statesmen who each subsequently became 
Prime Minister and Leader of the Party to 

which he 

was at this time diametrically 



It is curious to note that 
Mr. Gladstone, adopting Mr, 
McCarthy's version, long current 
without question, speaks of this 
discourse as t( my maiden speech." It was, 
as contemporary records show, so accepted 
by the House, As a matter of fact, sup- 
ported by the irrefragable testimony of the 
Mirror oj Parliament^ his first speech was 
delivered on the arst of February, 1833, the 
subject being the alleged discreditable state 
of things in Liverpool at 
Parliamentary and munici- 
pal elections. The speech 
of the 3rd of June in the 
same Session, to which 
Mr. McCarthy alludes, was 
delivered in Committee, 
upon consideration of 
resolutions submitted by 
Stanley, Colonial Secretary, 
as a preliminary to the 
emancipation of the West 
Indian slaves. 

On turning back to the 
Hansard of the day, Mr, 
Gladstone's recollection of 
the Ministerial compliment 
is fully justified. Evidently 
it made a deep impression 
on the mind of the young 
member, remaining with 
him for more than sixty 
years. "If the hon. gentle- 
man will permit me to 
make the observation/ 5 said 
the Colonial Secretary, " I 
beg to say I never listened with greater 
pleasure to any speech than I did to 
the speech of the hon, member for Newark, 
who then addressed the House, I believe, 
for the first time. He brought forward his 
case and argued it with a temper, an ability, 
and a fairness which may well be cited 
as a good model to many older members 
of this House, and which hold out to this 
House and to the country grounds of con- 
fident expectation that, whatever cause shall 
have the good fortune of his advocacy, will 
deri% p e from it great support," 

It will be observed that the Minister spoke 
without contradiction of Mr. Gladstone's 




speech as his first appearance on the Parlia- 
mentary scene, a circumstance which probably 
did much to crystallize the error. 

Last month when the Speaker, 
having as he observed " for 
greater accuracy " obtained a 
copy of the Queen's Speech, 
read it from the Chair, members with 
few exceptions uncovered, sitting bare- 
headed whilst the Speaker lent to the bald 
sentences the music of his voice, In the 
heyday of Irish obstruction the Parnellites 
were wont to assert their national inde- 
pendence by stubbornly keeping their hats 
on whilst the Saxon on these occasions bared 
his aggressively loyal brow. This contumacy 
excited profound indignation among British 
members, suffusing a corresponding gleam of 
satisfaction over the ex- 
pressive countenance of 
Mr. Joseph Gil lis Biggar 
and his colleagues from 

The member for Cavan 
would turn in his grave 
with mortification if he 
only knew — perhaps by 
this time he has learned 
— that in this designedly 
overt breach of order 
and decorum the Irish 
members were right, the 
loyal Saxons being in 
error. The rule which 
governs the House in 
these matters is that 
when the Sovereign — 
as in case of a reply to 
an address — dispatches 
a message personally 
and directly to the Commons, they sit 
uncovered to hear it read. But the reading 
by the Speaker of the Queen's Speech docs 
not constitute the delivery of a message 
direct from Her Majesty to the Commons. 
As a matter of fact, the Speech is addressed 
to Lords and Commons collectively, with 
one paragraph exclusively addressed to the 
Commons* The message they receive stand- 
ing at the Bar of the House of Lords. 

In earlier Parliamentary times, when 
there were no special editions of evening 
papers forthcoming with verbatim reports of 
the Speech from the Throne, it was found a 
matter of convenience for the Speaker to 
read the document for the edification of 
those who had not been able 
ceremony in the other House, 
like many others that have 




to attend the 

The custom, 

become ana- 

chronisms, is still observed. But it does 
not import the necessity of removing the hat. 
Last Session note was taken in one of the 
newspapers of the fact that Sir Henry 
Campbell Bannerman kept on his hat whilst 
the Queen's Speech was read from the Chair, 
He was strictly following the manner of the 
vieilk tmhi observing a custom common 
when he first entered the House, 

More than a hundred years ago 
a young Prussian clergyman, 
Moritz . by name, visited this 
country, travelling on foot from 
London through Oxford as far 
north as Derby and home by Nottingham. 
He described his impressions in a series of 
homely letters written to a friend* The book 
found modest publication* appearing in this 
country in a slim volume 
bearing date 1 795. 
Moritz visited the House 
of. Commons, and in his 
quiet, matter-of-fact way 
paints the scene in which 
Pitt, Fox, and Burke 
loomed large, 

" Passing through 
Westminster Hall/ 1 he 
reports, __ " you ascend a 
few steps at the end, 
and are led through a 
dark passage into the 
House of Commons." 
Westminster Hall re- 
mains to-day as it was 
when the quiet - man - 
nered, observant Prus- 
sian passed through it. 
The steps at the end 
are there t but the House 
of Commons, to which he presently ob- 
tained entrance, was 3 more than half a cen- 
tury later, burned to the ground. Entrance 
to the Strangers 1 Gallery in those days was 
approached, as it is now, by a small stair- 

" The first time I went up this small stair- 
case," says the ingenuous visitor, "and had 
reached the rails. I saw a very genteel man in 
black standing there, I accosted him without 
any introduction, and T asked him whether I 
might be allowed to go into the gallery. 
He told me that I must be introduced by a 
member, or else I could not get admission 
there. Now, as I had not the honour to be 
acquainted with a member, I was under the 
mortifying necessity of retreating and again 
going downstairs, as I did much chagrined* 
And now, as 1 was sullenly marching back, 




I heard something said about a bottle of 
wine which seemed to be addressed to ine, 
I could not conceive what it could mean till 
I got home, when my obliging landlady told 
me I should have given the well-dressed man 
half a crown or a couple of shillings for a 
bottle of wine. Happy in this information, 
1 went again the next day ; when the same 
man who before had sent me away, after I 
had given him only two shillings very politely 
opened the door for me, and himself recom- 
mended me to a good seat in the 

Strangers visiting the House of 
Commons will know how far we 
have advanced beyond the level of 
morality here indi- 



Mr. Moritz found 
the House of Com- 
mons " rather a mean- 
looking building, not 
a little resembling a 
chapel. The Speaker, 
an elderly man with 
an enormous wig with 
two knotted kind of 
tresses, or curls, be- 
hind, in a black cloak, 
his hat on his head, 

sat opposite to me on a lofty chair." The 
Speaker of the House of Commons long 
ago removed his hat, which in modern Parlia- 
mentary proceedings appears only when he 
produces it from an unsuspected recess 
and uses it pointing to members when he 
counts the House. "The members of the 
House of Commons/' he notes, " have 
nothing particular in their 
dress. They even come 
into the House in their 
great-coats with boots and 
spurs/' which to-day would 
be thought a something 
very particular indeed. " It 
is not at all uncommon 
to see a member lying 
stretched out on one of 
the benches whilst others 
are debating. Some crack 
nuts, others eat oranges, or 
whatever else is in season," 

We have changed all 

that During the all-night 

sittings in the heyday of 

the Land League Party an 

Irish member brought a 

paper bag of buns with 

him, and proceeded to 
Vol *viL-3a 


refresh himself in the intervals of speech- 
making. This outrage on the Constitution 
was swiftly and sternly rebuked from the 
Chair, and was never repeated. Another old- 
world custom of the House noted by the 
stranger who looked down from the gallery 

a hundred and seven- 
teen years ago was that 
me m bers add ressi ng 
their remarks to the 
Speaker prefaced 
them, as they do at 
this day, with the 
observation "Sir." 
"The Speaker on 
being thus addressed 
generally moves his 
hat a little, but im- 
mediately puts it on 
again." The Speaker 
not now wearing a 
hat cannot observe 
this courteous custom. 
But it exists to this 
day among members 
A member referred 
to by another in the course of 
his speech always lifts his hat, 
in recognition of the attention, 
complimentary or otherwise, 
In the House of Lords, more conservative 
of old customs than the Commons, the Lord 
Chancellor is upon certain occasions seen of 
men with a three-cornered hat crowning his 
full-bottomed wig. This happens when new 
peers take the oath and their seat. As the 
new peer is conducted on his quaint peregrin- 
ation and salutes the Lord Chancellor from 
the Barons' or Earls' bench, 
to which he has been in- 
ducted, the Lord Chancel- 
lor responds by thrice 
gravely uplifting his three- 
cornered hat. Another 
time when he wears his 
hat in the House is when 
acting with other Royal 
Commissioners at the open- 
ing of Parliament, at its 
Prorogation, or at the 
giving the Royal Assent 
to Bills. 

The Prussian 
CHARLES , , , 

chanced to visit 

JAMES the House on 

FOX ' the historic 

occasion when proposal 

was made for doing honour 

al ttt° ft^miral Rodney, the 


{From an OW Por$] 




gallant victor at Cape St, Vincent, " Fox," 
Mr. Moritz reports, "was sitting to the 
right of the Speaker, not far from the 
table on which the gilt sceptre lay. He 
now took his place so near it that he 
could reach it with his hand and, thus 
placed, he gave it many a violent and 
hearty thump, either to aid or to show 
the energy with which he spoke. It is im- 
possible for me to describe with what fire 
and persuasive eloquence he spoke, and 
how the Speaker in the Chair incessantly 
nodded approbation from beneath his solemn 
wig. Innumerable voices incessantly called 
out, ' Hear him ! hear him ! ? and when there 
was the least sign that he intended to leave 
off speaking they no less vociferously ex- 
claimed ' Go on.' And so he continued to 
speak in this manner for nearly two hours. 5 ' 
M Charles Fox," wTites this precursor of 
" Pictures in Parliament," u is a short, fat, and 
gross man, with a swarthy complexion, and 
dark ; and in general he is badly dressed. 
There certainly is something Jewish in his 
looks. But upon the whole he is not an ill- 
made, nor an ill-looking, man, and there are 
strong marks of sagacity and fire in his eyes. 
Burke is a well-made, tall, upright man, but 
looks elderly and broken. Rigby is exces- 
sively corpulent, and has a jolly, rubicund 

This command of the Speaker 
to - day precedes every divi- 
sion in the House of Commons, 
But it is peremptory only 
with the few otherwise 
favoured strangers who 
have obtained seats be- 
neath the gallery. The 
reason for this is obvious, 
Being actually on the floor 
of the House, they might, 
by accident or design, stray 
into the division lobby, 
leading to grievous com- 
plications in the voting. 
Mr. Moritz makes the 
interesting note that when 
the division on the Rod- 
ney vote was pending, 
members, turning their 
faces towards the gallery, 
called aloud, (t Withdraw ! 
Withdraw!" "On this," 
he WTites, "the strangers 
withdraw, and are shut up in a small room 
at the foot of the stairs till the voting is 
over, when they are again permitted to take 
their places in the gallery." 

In our time, strangers in the gallery, 
despite the order to withdraw, retain their 
seats. Only those who, with pride of port, 
have been conducted to the special seats 
under the gallery are marched out, con- 
ducted across the lobby, and left outside the 
locked doors till the division is over. 
According to Mr. Moritz's testimony, the 
Strangers' Galleries were not exclusively 
allotted to men, ladies mingling in the 
closely-packed company, The old House of 
Commons had no Ladies 1 Gallery, though in 
addition to permission to enter the ordinary 
Strangers 1 Gallery, ladies were admitted to a 
sort of cage in the roof, railed off from the 
aperture provided for the escape of hot air 
generated by the candles. It was from this 
place that Mr. Gladstone, in his first Session 
of the House of Commons, saw a fan flutter 
down in the middle of an important debate. 
There was, of course, no such 
thing as a Press Gallery in the 

rp: porters 





days before the earlier Revolu- 
tion in France. " Two shorthand 
writers," says the stranger in the gallery, 
whose quick glance nothing escapes, "have 
sat sometimes not far distant from me, who, 
though it is rather by stealth, endeavour to 
take down the words of the speaker. Thus 
all that is very remarkable in what is said in 
Parliament may generally be read in print 
the next day." 

Dr. Johnson often sat in this gallery, 
though he did not use shorthand in reporting 
the speeches. The omission would doubtless 
be to the advantage of 
some speakers, Mr. Moritz 
heard that those in con- 
stant attendance with the 
object of reporting the 
debates paid the door- 
keeper a guinea for the 
privilege of the Session. 
The fee was paid in 

There was no Strangers' 

Gallery in the House of 

Peers at that time, but 

the irresistible Prussian 

seems to have gained 

admission. He writes : 

" There appears to be 

much more politeness and 

more courteous behaviour 

with the members of the 

But he who wishes to observe 

to contemplate the leading 

different characters most 

marked, willtrfldin well to attend 



Upper House, 
mankind and 
traits of the 



frequently the lower rather than the upper 
House/* Those familiar with both Houses 
of Parliament will know how admirably this 
shrewd advice pertains to the present day. 

The Session is already three 
baron weeks old, but the lobby has 
"ferdy." not yet lost a certain sense of 
desolateness since Baron Ferdy 
Rothschild Monies not any more. He was 
not, in the ordinary sense of the term, a 
Parliamentary figure, I have no recollection 
of hearing him make a speech. 
He was not given to sitting 
up late at night in order to 
save the State or (the same 
thing) serve his party. But 
he was a man of wide human 
sympathies, and the House 
of Commons, microsm of 
humanity, irresistibly attracted 

His habit of an afternoon 
was to enter the lobby, gener- 
ally after questions were over. 
With one hand in his pocket, 
and a smile on his face, he 
made straightway for a friend, 
standing in an accustomed 
spot by the doorkeepers chair, 
and " wanted to know " every- 
thing that had happened since 
the House met, and what was 
going on next Baron Ferdy, 
otherwise a distinct individu- 
ality in his notable family, 
had* in marked degree, their 
characteristic of acquiring 
information, He always 
u wanted to know." This 
habitude was indicative of the universality of 
his sympathy. He was one of the most 
unaffectedly kind-hearted men I ever knew. 
Looking in upon him one morning in his 
study at Waddesdon, I found him seated 
before two heaps of opened letters, one very 
much smaller than the other. "All begging 
letters/' he said, glancing, with a faint smile, 
towards the larger bundle* 

Undeterred by their predominance and 
persistency, Baron Ferdy had, in accordance 
with his custom, spent an early hour of the 
morning in going through them himself* 
fearful lest he might miss a genuine case of 
distress that he could alleviate, 

It was not money only he be- 
stowed. Out of its abundance 
a cheque more or less was no- 
thing* More self-sacrificing, he 
gave time and personal attention, not shrink- 




ing from putting himself under a personal 
obligation in order to assist someone who 
really had no claim upon him. The longest 
letter I ever had from him begged me to 
obtain an appointment on the London Press 
for a country journalist He followed it 
up with renewed personal applications, im- 
patiently treating my plea that, there being 
no vacancy within my knowledge, it would 
not be possible violently to supersede any 
one of the leading contributors to I^ndon 
journals in order to make room 
for his protege. Judging from 
the ardour of the pursuit, I 
concluded the gentleman in 
question must in some way 
be closely connected with the 
Baron or his establishment. 
On inquiry I found he had 
never seen him— knew nothing 
about him save particulars set 
forth in a letter the youth had 
written to him. It was the 
old story of unrest and yearn- 
ing ambition, familiar to all 
of us who have served on the 
treadmill of the Press. It 
was new to Baron Ferdy, It 
touched his kind heart, and 
he espoused the youth's cause 
with fervour that could not 
have been excelled had he 
been a kinsman. 

" A CUP An0ther 0f his 

quiet kindnesses, 

«,*«„» » of which I had 
water/ , , 

personal know- 
ledge, befell on the day of 
the wedding of the Duchess 
of York, He had invited a few friends to 
view the scene from the balcony of his 
mansion in Piccadilly, The crowd at this 
favoured spot, commanding the debouchement 
from Constitution Hill, was enormous. The 
day was intensely hot t men and women faint- 
ing in the crowd, gasping for water. Baron 
Ferdy, observing this from the balcony, 
ran downstairs, ordered the servants to 
bring buckets of fresh water into the 
barricaded space before the house, and 
stationed two of them in a position over- 
looking the barricade, whence they could 
hand down tumblers of water to the thirsty 
and grateful crowd. Last year but one, on 
the occasion of the Queen's Golden Jubilee, 
Baron Ferdy, never neglectful of opportunity 
to do a kindness, made, in advance, pre- 
parations for relieving the discomfort of 
the. crowd, at his. gates.. Finding in the 

owu at ois gates. I 




coarse of the day that the police on duty 
had had nothing to eat since they turned 
out in the morning, he, as soon as the 
business of the day was over, sent out 
into the highways and by-ways, and com- 
pelled the not unwilling police to come 
in and partake of the sumptuous banquet 
he had prepared by way of luncheon for his 
personal friends* watching the scene from 
the balcony. 

These are but trifling things* I tell them 
as happening to have come under my 
personal observation. They are indicative 
of the sweetness of Baron Ferdy's nature, 
the boundless charity of his disposition. 
The catalogue would be indefi- 
nitely extended if everyone 
who knew him were to con- 
tribute his item. The House 
of Commons could better have 
spared a more prominent politi- 
cian, a more frequent con- 
tributor to its daily debates. 

It would be inter- 
esting to know 
whether, in all re- 
spects, Scotland 
stands where it did 
since the salary of its Heritable 
Usher is no longer carried on 
the books of the Consolidated 
Fund. What were precisely the 
duties of the Heritable Usher 
is not known. Long ago the inheritor did 
his last ushering, his heirs selling for a con- 
siderable mess of pottage the salary per- 
taining to the office- It was created in the 
year 1393, and by solemn Act of the Parlia- 
ment of Scotland was conferred upon Alex- 
ander Cockburn, of Langton, and his heirs. 
Subsequent Acts of the Scottish Parliament, 
passed in 1681 and i686 ? confirmed the 
original grant, the latter Act attaching a 
salary of ^250 a year to the office* When 
the union of England and Scotland was 
effected the Heritable Usher, with many 
similar useful persons, was established in 
possession of his dignity and emoluments by 
a special clause in the Treaty of Union 
providing that "all heritable offices, superi- 
orities, etc., being reserved to the owners 
thereof as rights of property in the same 
manner as they are now enjoyed by the laws 

of Scotland, notwithstanding of this treaty." 
At the beginning of the century the office 
with the salary, being a marketable com- 
modity, was acquired by one Sir Patrick 
Walker, who, with nice precision, paid a sum 
equivalent to thirty-one and a quarter years' 
purchase. The office and, what is much 
more important, the salary finally came into 
the possession of the Dean and Chapter of the 
Episcopal Cathedral of St, Mary's, Edinburgh* 
Mr, Hanbury, who> in his capacity of Finan- 
cial Secretary to the Treasury, has a keen 
scent for these ancient jobs, has concluded a 
transaction for the computation of the salary. 
The Dean and Chapter of the Cathedral of 



St. Mary's will pouch a trifle under ^£7,000, 
and the Heritable Usher of Scotland will be 
ushered into final obscurity. 

It will be a nice task for any boy home for 
the holidays to reckon up with compound 
interest what the Heritable Usher of Scotland 
has cost Great Britain since he stepped on 
the scene in the year of Our I>ord 1393- 

This transaction has been con- 

flodden ducted in pursuance of a 

field* Treasury Minute founded upon 

the report of a House or 
Commons' Committee which met twelve 
years ago to consider the subject of per- 
petual pensions. They recommend that 
holders of pension allowances or payments 
which the Law Officers of the Crown con- 
sider to be permanent in character, but to 
which no obligation of an onerous kind 
attaches, should be invited to commute- 

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Original from 

Animal Actualities. 

Note. — These ar ticks consist of a series of perfectly authentic afterdates of animal life t illustrated 
by Mr. J. A, Shepherd* an artist long a favourite with readers of The Strand Magazine. We shall 
be glad to receive similar anecdotes \ fully authenticated by names of witnesses) for use in future numbers. 
While the stories themselves will be matters of fact, it must be understood that the artist will treat the 
subject with freedom and fancy y more with a view to an amusing commentary than to a mere repre- 
sentation of the occurrence. 




U Akj ^ 


■*. * * 

HIS is a tale of shameful persecu- 
tion of the Metropolitan police 
by a lawless gander and his 
gggj^jn^gi abetting wives. 

In New Road, Mile End, there 
was a dairy where poultry was kept. Most 
eminent among this poultry, and chiefly 
notorious in the neighbourhood, were a 
gander and four geese, The gander was a 
Urge and athletic bird, great in enterprise 
and immensely venerated by his consorts. 
It was the way of the troop to form a solemn 
procession which perambulated the New 
Road in ponderous state, seeking what or 
whom it might devour, and during these 
expeditions the outdoor life of Mile End 
never lacked for humorous incident For 
some time the family enterprise was chiefly 
directed toward the maltster's opposite the 

dairy, and the constant procession of the 
dignified gander, followed in single file by 
his harem, strictly in order of precedence, 
toward the grain-sacks, and the equally con- 
stant retreat of the lot, as fast as they could 
go, with quacks of injured dignity and no 
order at all, when repelled by the maltster's 
men, brightened the faces of the passers-by 
and filled the humorous souls of Mile End 
boys with gladness. For the gander was 
apt to be aggressive, his wives followed 
his example, and the maltster's men dis- 

Persistently repelled from the grain-sacks, 
the gander and his ladies began a stately, 
parade of the streets. There are area-gratings 
flush with the pavement in the New Road, 
and one day it occurred to somebody in an 
area to thrust a crust between the bars. The 




gander absorbed the crust, but the signifi- 
cance of the hint was absorbed in equal 
quantities by the entire c&rfi*ge y and the next 
morning the same area was decorated with 
the same fringe of geese, who declined to 

biscuit as he went* There were a few 
loose crumbs and pieces in his hand, 
and in an evil moment he caught sight 
of the birds. Little suspecting what would 
be the terrible consequences to the Force, 


leave till yesterday's dose had been repeated. 
Then they tried every grating in the street in 
succession, and before long had succeeded in 
levying a sort of area-tax on the suffering 
ratepayers of Mile End, returning home after 
every collection heavily laden, waddling, but 
preposterously dignified as ever, a source of 
joy to any onloolcer capable of laughter. 

But one day a policeman passed on his 
beat— a policeman whose notions of official 
dignity did not prevent him munching a 

that unlucky policeman bestowed the broken 
pieces on the gander and his consorts, and 
went placidly on his beat, unconscious of ill. 
Mr. Ward, of 67, New Road, had observed 
this from his window, and saw also the hor- 
rible sequel For on the following day that 
policeman passed again (but this time with 
no biscuits), and the geese knew him, and 
rushed at him with outstretched necks, 
Sapping wings, and wild screeches. And 
not at this policeman alone, but at e% r ery 

Original from 




other policeman who ventured to perform 
his duty in Nevv Road, Mile End. Words 
cannot express the terrific scene when a 
more than usually ponderously- important 
sergeant was mobbed by this subversive 
gang. They came at him with yells and 
flaps, and waited expectantly about him. 
The sergeant took no notice, but walked on, 
even more vastly magnificent than before. 
And behind him, in single file, came the 
geese, solemn and dignified, too, in their own 
way. This wouldn't do. An important 

the creatures away ; whereat they gave a 
simultaneous quack and grew more eager 
That wouldn't do, either. The sergeant 
turned to walk on, and instantly the geese 
lined up behind him again, and the pageant 
recommenced* It was very awkward. The 
sergeant stopped, and the geese made an 
expectant, long-necked circle about him t 
quacking indignantly at this delay in pro- 
ducing the desired biscuits. The sergeant 
looked abstractedly at the house-chimneys, 
folded his hands as though about to begin a 


sergeant of police, stalking first in a pro- 
cession the other members of which were a 
large gander and his four wives in order of 
seniority, was an object inconsistent with the 
dignity of the Force. So he turned to drive 

long period of meditation, did everything he 
could think of to suggest to the minds of 
his persecutors that they had drawn him 
blank, and had best go away, Not they, how- 
ever. The krjgfr they waited, the more im- 





portunate they grew, and, when the unhappy 
sergeant made to move on, the procession 
formed again ! A small crowd had collected, 
and it soon occurred to some small boy to 
yell "Who stole the goose?" And so the 
poor victim was harried the length of two 
long and derisive streets, till someone came 
from the dairy and drove the birds back* 

It was a terrible affliction, and not this 
sergeant alone, but every policeman who 

ventured into New Road in uniform was 
an equal sufferer. People in the interiors 
of their houses heard a burst of quacks 
and flaps, and said one to another, " Here 
comes a policeman." Nothing could rid the 
Force of the terror, and the cause of law and 
order seemed in a fair way to be wholly 
overset Till at last urgent representations 
from the police-station led to the confinement 
of the birds w T ithin the dairy-yard. 


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Original from 


or* ^® 


one day in his workshop oppo- 
site the old Palace of the 
Podesta in Brescia, On the 
shelves around were numerous 
examples of his work, their 
rich gold varnish, for which he was after- 
wards so famous, glistening in the sunlight. 
But Cavalanci sat on a bench disconsolate. 

"Diavolo," he at length exclaimed, letting 
a half-purfled scroll fall unheeded from his 
hand, " is this to be the end of Brescian 
dreams ? Here is music lying dead, enough 
to charm the ears of half Italy, and yet, 
forsooth, he who wants viol* or violin must 
needs hasten to Cremona for the imitations 
of the Amantif Guarneri, or of Antonio 
Stradivari. Times are indeed changed that I> 
Gasparo's grandson, must offer my work and 
find no purchasers, unless it be the mounte- 
banks of the village fairs, Truly, I pay 
dearly for a father's folly. Instead of roam- 
ing Western seas, why stayed he not at home 
lo earn the mantle which fell on Maggini's 
shoulders, from whom I had to learn all a 
fattier should have taught? And his son 
Carlo, in liku manner, is content to merce 
flimsy silk rather than pursue immortal work. 
We are ingrates here, while in Cremona 
loyalty, at any rate, thrives, and son succeeds 
father to Brescian hurt," 

Then he rose and paced the room savagely, 
kicking what tools or wood fell in his way. 

VoL xvii f -30. 


Henry A. Hering. 

"But what mends it," he muttered, 
" mouthing of fallen hopes ? Present claims 
are more urgent. Sixteen lire were due to 
Carlo for rent more than a month ago. His 
grace expires to-morrow, and well I know no 
memories of the (>ast will stay his hand. My 
stock and tools alone are worth a hundred 
lire ; therefore old Tubal would give me ten. 
Perchance I might haggle the whole sixteen, 
and then— Corpo di Bacco, that it should 
come to this !— Gasparo's grandson an out- 
cast, while Guarncri and Stradivari, base 
copiers, flourish I By all that is unholy, I 
swear I'd sell my soul to the Evil One himself 
could I but outdo them in fame." 

There was a blinding flash of lightning, 
followed by a fearful thunder-peal, and then, 
sulphurous darkness filled the shop. When 
light came Cavalanci was conscious of the 
presence of another. He half-hoped, half- 
dread ed, to see the Devil on whom he had 
so impiously called — but it was seemingly 
only a chance customer. Yet it was after- 
wards said that he was something more, for 
Cavalanci paid his rent next day, the fame 
of his instruments increased forthwith, and 
he died a rich, though not a happy, man, 

"Dear Sir," the letter ran, —"We are 
instructed by Messrs. Ware and Foster, execu- 
tors under the will of the late Mr. Josephus 
Wilson, to intimate to you that the testator 
bequeathec^igj^BflllffiPfltblin. We are send- 




ing it you by special messenger herewith, 
and will thank you to sign inclosed acknow- 
ledgment of receipt. 

t( Yours respectfully, 

" Danes and Danes." 

I handed the letter to Dawson. 

" Well, I've heard of heaping coals of fire 
on your enemy's head," he remarked, when 
he had read it 3 u but I never came across 
such a remarkable instance of the operation 
as this. Are you going to take it ? "' 

" Why not ? I will accept it as the peace- 
offering for which it was obviously intended. 
As a matter of fact, a post-mortem recon- 
ciliation was the only 
one I would have 
agreed to. Yes, cer- 
tainly I will take it" 

So I signed the 
receipt and accepted 
the bequest 

I undid the parcel 
and took the violin 
from its battered case. 

" Why, it's as yellow 
as a guinea," I ex- 
claimed, in surprise ; 
I had never seen such 
a light one. 

u Wilson was un- 
commonly proud of 
the colour," said Daw- 
son, " and he was 
simply infatuated with 
the instrument. Lat- 
terly they couldn't 
tear him away from 
it He never would 
play it before any- 
one, though. That 
was another of his 
cranks* He used to 
shut himself up with 
it all day long, and 
play both it and the 
piano simultaneously.' 1 

I expressed my 
doubts as to this pos- 

" At any rate, Wil- 
son did it : I've heard 
him myself, though I 
never actually saw the 
operation." Saying which, Dawson sat 
down on the stool and resumed the inter- 
rupted nocturne. 

Then a remarkable thing happened. He 
had not played half-a-dozen chords before 
a long-drawn-out note came from the violin 




I was still fingering, I nearly dropped it in 
my amazement. 

" Here, stop that," said Dawson, wheeling 

" I did not touch a string. It made that 
noise of itself. ?T 

" Humbug ! Don't do it again, that's all," 
he replied, snappishly, resuming his inter- 
rupted piece. 

Again, as he struck the keyboard, the 
violin sounded* Without stopping Dawson 
turned his head, and when he saw me a 
couple of yards away from the violin, his 
expression of annoyance changed to one 

of open -eyed amaze- 
ment, for he was still 
playing the piano s and 
the notes that con- 
tinued to proceed 
from the violin were 
in harmony with his 

He stopped sud- 
denly, and with him 
the violin. 

'*Did you hear 
that ? " he asked, in 
a scared voice, 

I was too much 
astonished to reply, 
and we both stared 
at the instrument for 
some minutes in abso- 
lute silence, 

w It's a sympathetic 
fiddle/' I said, at 
length, for the mere 
sake of saying some- 

"It seems a bit 
that way," replied 
Dawson, drily ; " but 
I never heard one so 
sympathetic as all 

He turned round 
to the piano and com- 
menced afresh, and 
again the violin joined 
in. This time Dawson 
did not stop, and the 
duet continued in 
absolute harmony. 
I bent over the instrument. The varnish 
seemed brighter than before. The sun 
glinted topa^ lights upon it, with changing 
gleams of purple and brown ; the strings 
quivered as though touched by an unseen 
bow. I fe^rjfl i&sddfreMVer run down my 




spine as I watched ; it was altogether too 

The piano stopped : simultaneously the 
violin, Dawson wheeled round and gazed 
at it 

" Well, of all the extraordinary things ! " he 
ejaculated* " What on earth does it mean ? n 

u Let's see if it will follow me," I said, 
irrelevantly, taking his seat. 

Once I learnt to play on the piano, and I 
still remember the treble of two tunes — 
" Haydn's Surprise n and " God bless the 
Prince of Wales." I played the first, but 
the violin remained impassive. Maybe the 
bass I improvised puzzled it ; at any rate, it 
did not join in. Then I tried the second 
air, and with no better success. Then 
Dawson played with his right hand only, and 
it struck in at once. 

" It isn't particularly respectful to its 
owner," I remarked, " It seems to me> 
Dawson, this fiddle 
has taken an alto- 
gether unnecessary 
liking for you, Wil- 
son should have 
left it to you 

" If you want to 
part with it I shall 
be glad to offer it 
a home/ 1 said Daw- 
son with what ap- 
p ea red to me 
indelicate haste, 

" You can take 
it away now, Daw- 
son," I rejoined* 
" I want no unwil- 
ling visitor here." 

He seemed 
singularly pleased 
with the present, 
and he left me that 
evening with the 
fiddle-case in his 

after this 1 made 
a long foreign tour, 
and it was nearly 
twelve months 

before I saw him again, T wrote advising 
him of my return, and asked him to look me 
up, but as he neither did so nor wrote, I 
called upon him. 

He lived in rooms in Bloomsburv. The 
servant told me he was in, but added that 
she did not think he would see 




"Is he ill?" I asked. 

" No, sir, but he's playing ; and he won't 
ever see anyone then." 

This was a new development in his 
character- Telling the servant it would Ik: 
all right, I made my way upstairs. 

Yes, Dawson was undoubtedly playing, 
and someone was helping him, for there were 
piano and violin, 

I tapped and then turned the handle, but 
the cloor was locked. 1 knocked loudly and 
called to Dawson to open it 

There was a moment's pause— or rather 
the piano stopped, but the violin went on. 

" Who's there?" shouted Dawson, in a 
peevish voice. 
" Saunders t" 

* ( Wait a minute," was the curt reply ; and 
on the piano galloped as if to overtake its 
companion. I don't think it accomplished 
this, for the violin shrieked as if in anger at 

the delay, and the 
piano rushed on 
blindly and apolo- 
getically. Then in 
a fierce crescendo 
of disgust the fiddle 
ceased. The piano 
put on the brake, 
slowed down, and 

The door opened 
and Dawson bade 
me enter. He was 

" Where's your 
friend ? " I asked ; 
and then, catching 
sight of a yellow 
violin on the table, 
I suddenly remem- 
bered : I had just 
been listening to 
another duet be- 
tween Dawson and 
my self-acting 

Dawson made 
no reply, but sank 
into a chair and 
wiped the perspira- 
tion from his race 
He seemed altogether 


with trembling hands 
out of condition. 

" What's the matter, old man? " I asked. 
"You don't seem well/' 

Dawson gloomily pointed to the fiddle. 

11 That's what's the matter," he replied, with 
a ghastly sfiyiejjnal from 


3 o8 


" What, my sympathetic fiddle ? You 
don't mean to say you've had too much of it 
already ? I'll take it back if you don't like 

" You can't take it back. It's a Cavalanci." 

" Well, it won't bite, will it ? " 

" When a man once gets a Cavalanci and 
plays to it, it sticks to him like the Old Man 
of the Sea, and no power on earth can take 
it away from him," said Dawson, senten- 

" Humbug ! " 

" Look at the wreck I am," he replied. 
" There's no humbug about that, is there ? 
And I've only the Cavalanci to thank for it." 

"You do look bad," I admitted. "But 
tell me all about it. What do you mean by 
a Cavalanci ? " 

Dawson leaned back in his chair and gazed 
at the ceiling. 

" Cavalanci," said he, slowly, " was a com- 
petitor of Stradivarius, and he determined to 
outshine his rival. According to the legend, 
which I for one now implicitly believe, he 
sold his soul to the Devil to gain his ends. 
His instruments became all the rage, till it 
was found that their owners invariably 
went mad, as I am going. Then the 
demand ceased and bonfires were made of 
them whenever possible. I have learnt that 
there are only four extant now, and this 
cursed thing is one of them." 

" Why not burn that as well, if it annovs 

" I dare not. Its owner can only destroy 
his Cavalanci on his death : bed. Wilson 
could have done it, but as he owed you a 
grudge he passed it on to you instead. 
Would to Heaven you'd been the first to play 
in its diabolic presence." 

" I'll destroy it, if you won't," I said. I 
grabbed at it, and was about to break it 
across my knee when Dawson sprang forward 
with a terrible cry. 

" No, no, Saunders. You'd kill me if you 
did it." He caught the instrument in his 
hands and huddled it to him as if it were a 

It was a painful spectacle. I watched him 

"Saunders," he said, at length, "you don't 
know what a time of it I've had since I got 
hold of this infernal thing." 

" You seemed pleased enough to get it at 
the time." 

"And so I was. It seemed scarcely 
credible, but as I played with the thing in 
your room, an overwhelming desire for 
possession came over me. I pretty Iw^ll 

asked for it, and if you had refused to give 
it me, I think I should have taken it by main 
force. I simply craved for that fiddle." 

"Then if you wanted it so badly, why 
does its possession worry you ? " 

"Because, Saunders, it makes my life a 
perfect misery. Man, I'm its slave. It takes 
the lead now. When it wishes to play — and 
it is always wishing it — I have to accompany 
it wherever I am. Distance makes no 
difference, and I have to play till it is 
satisfied. I found that out about a week after 
I got it. I was at the Venables'. In the 
middle of dinner I felt a terrible longing 
stealing over me. I wanted to play. I tried 
to control myself, but play I must or go mad 
Scarcely apologizing, I left the table, ran into 
the drawing-room, and sat down at the piano. 
I don't know what I played, but the moment 
my fingers touched the keys I was filled with 
a feeling of content and delight. I was still 
playing when the ladies entered. Mrs. 
Venables must have thought me mad, for I 
did not stop. She sent for ter husband, who 
came and asked me to return to the table. I 
nodded to him and went on. Suddenly my 
feelings changed, and I was only aware that 
I was making a terrible fool of myself. The 
full force of my social enormity fell upon 
me, and, livid with confusion, I made some 
incoherent apology and fled from the house. 

" From that night my reputation for 
eccentricity was firmly established, and I 
have added to it from time to time, for I am 
never safe, and can go nowhere without the 
danger of a similar occurrence. The follow- 
ing Sunday I went to the Wilmers'. There 
were plenty of delightful people there, and for 
a time I forgot my wretched position. Sud- 
denly the same mad impulse came over me. 
There was a long-haired German at the piano, 
but it didn't matter. I flicked him off the 
stool, and, surrounded by a gaping crowd, 
went through Heaven knows what composi- 
tion. But I did not care : I was happy. 
Then when my master was satisfied again the 
terrible awakening came, and I flung myself 
out of the room like a madman — they all 
thought I was. It's just fiendish, Saunders. 
I rarely can go anywhere without making a 
fool of myself! It's just maddening to think 
of the ignominy of it all." 

" But, my dear chap, why don't you lose 
it ? Put it in an express train, with a ficti- 
tious address, and wash your hands of it." 

"I've tried it," said Dawson, wearily. 
" Before I knew all I have since learnt from 
bitter experience, I packed it off by P. and O. 
boat, addressed to the Grand Llama of 





& * 



Tibet. 1 thought he might be able to deal 
with it if he ever got it, I suffered agonies 
from the separation, and it must have been 
very lively on the journey, For I had to 
play to it just the same. And then, after 
all, it came back to me marked 'Gone — 
Left no address,' and I don't know what 
I hadn't to pay for carriage* How they 
found out the sender, goodness only knows. 
I have left it in trains, but it never fails to 
come back, and 1 have always suffered 
during its absence. I took it to a pawnshop 
and destroyed the ticket, but the yearning 
for it was so fearful I had to get it out by 
making a false declaration about the ticket 
before a magistrate, I can't bear to be away 
from it. When I play its accompaniments a 
feeling of intense happiness and satisfaction 
steals over me, but afterwards the sense of 
the ignominy of it all is terrible. I can do 
nothing in life but minister to the caprices of 
a Cavalanci violin — and finally go crazy." 

Just as he ended there was a tap at the 
door, and the servant appeared with a parcel 
It was a disreputable-looking object. The 

paper was ragged and dirty, the string 
knotted and loosely tied. 

Dawson looked at it doubtfully. 
44 Are vou sure it's for me ? " he asked, 
"Who brought it?" 

" He looked like a 
circus man, sir," replied 
the maid, 44 and he was 
most particular in saying 
it was for you," 

H A circus man," mut- 
tered Dawson, as he tore 
off the wrapper. A violin- 
case was exposed to view. 
He opened it, and then 
gave vent to a yell of 
dismay, I looked at the 
contents. It was a yellow 

" What, another Cava- 
lanci ! " I exclaimed. 

" It looks like it," said 
Da wson , bi 1 1 er I y , "One's 
quite enough for any 
family. I don't know to 
whom Fm indebted for 
this particular attention, 
but I should like to wring 
his precious neck." Then 
he banged the lid to. 

lt Here, Saunders," said 

he, "you can do me this 

good turn at any rate. 

Take this outside — leave 

it in a 'bus or pitch it into a dust-bin ; do 

anything you like with it, only take it away, 

and it will work its passage to its owner. 

But do it at once. I may have to play any 

minute to satisfy my own fiddle, and I don't 

know what complication would result; Take 

it, man, this minute," 

To satisfy him I look hold of the thing, 
put on my hat and opened the door. I 
nearly fell over the servant, who was about to 
knock ; behind her was a tall, fur-coated 
man whom I did not remember to have seen 
before, And, good heavens ! in his hand 
was a violin-case ! The place seemed 
infested with fiddles. 

I was brushing past him, but he laid a 
heavy hand on my shoulder and forced me 
back into the room. He himself followed, 
closed the door, and placed himself 
before it. 

" Excuse my roughness, sir," said he, with 
a strong nasal twang, "but air you James 
Dawson ? " 

u No," I replied ; " that's the gentleman," 
pointing to Dawson, who was standing with 




ey«s staring out of his head, fixed on the 
stranger's violin-case. 

** Don't stay, Saunders," he almost shrieked, 
"take it away. There's not a moment to be 

But the new-comer effectually barred the 

iJawson was almost beside himself. He 
grabbed hold of the poker, but the stranger 
coolly threw his case on the table and from 
his breast produced a tiny revolver. 

"Two can play at that pertieler game, 
sir/' said he, " and I reckon the betting's on 
my side to-day." 

And there we stood, 
" Perhaps you'll kindly 
explain what you mean 
by this intrusion ? " I 
said, hotly. 

u No objection at all," 
said the American, for 
so I judged him to t>e. 
4i Fd have done so at 
once if James Dawson 
hadn't been so demon- 
strative. You see, 
Colonel, it's thish - yer 
way. That infernal cuss, 
Cavalanci ,n 

Again the door opened, 
and this time a heavily 
muffled foreigner with 
spectacles and long hair 
appeared, and, ye gods ! 
he also had a violin- 

"Goot," said the latest 
arrival^ " I see dat I am 
joost En de nick off 
time. (loot evenings, 
shentletnens all," and 
with this he placed his 
case and hat on the 
table and proceeded to 
divest himself of hts 

** Bravo," said the Yankee, "I'm glad to 
see you, Bloomstem. We are now complete 
—the four extant Cavalanci and the four 

u Tm not an owner," I said, in alarm, for 1 
did not at all like the turn things were taking. 

"You're the Baboo from Benares, ain't 
you ? " asked the American. 

"No, sir, I'm not, I'm a friend of Mr, 
Dawson. I was simply calling upon him, 
and I think III go now* I don't wish to 
intrude on your proceedings." 

" No, you don t, sir," said he, turning the 

"" g 

key in the door and pocketing it. "Not till 
Tm clear on the subject. Whose fiddle's 
tnat ? " pointing to the one 1 held. 
" It's just come in a parcel," said L 
" Allow me to look at it, please/' said the 
Yankee, still toying with his revolver. 

He placed the case on the table, opened 
it, and drew forth the violin. Underneath it 
was a letter. 

"Ah, thishyer's thingumy's fist," said he, 

"and no doubt it will explain. Here, Colonel, 

you look like an Oriental scholar, so, perhaps, 

you'll decipher it." And he handed me the 


The handwriting was 
like a copy-book head- 
ing, but the composition 
was peculiar. This is 
what I read : — 

"Honoured Sir, — It 
mortifies me deeply not 
to intrude at happy 
conversazione. I have 
made blue in the Wiski 
of Scotch land the rupees 
obligingly forwarded so 
there is no ability in 
me to pay for a transit. 
To-day the Gangees re- 
ceives a solid addition 
but my fiddle of spank- 
ing yellow will reach 
you timely by a holy 
gentleman of Shore- 
ditch, - - Faithful and 
truly, " Doxnergee 

" The cur ! " exclaimed 
the Yankee, when I had 
finished reading this 
singular epistle. " Why 
didn't he destroy his 
Cavalanci before he 
committed suicide in- 
stead of passing it on 
here ? Someone will 
have to own it or the whole scheme will fall 
through, Here, Colonel, 5 - addressing me, 
" you're the odd man out. You've got to 
take possession of that Cavalanci-" 

" I beg to decline the honour, 1 * I replied, 

The Yankee lifted his revolver threaten- 

" Nein T nein," broke in the German, "do 
not shet his blood, Egsblain de matter to 
de shentlemans und he vill understand/ 1 

11 Right," said the Yankee, seating him- 
self astride C?rk| ifteUfrcwith his back to the 






door, revolver still in hand. " It's thishyer 
way, and maybe if I had told you at first I 
should have had a warmer reception from 
James Dawson. My name is Masters — 
Simpson K, Masters, of Tontine, Dak, I 
am the unfortunate owner of this instru- 
ment, and I need hardly tell you what its 
possession entails." 

A groan broke from the German. "Ja, 
ja ; dat is so, " he said. 

" It was left me about five years ago by a 
lady who had lost her breach of promise 
action against me, and when I fully realized 
that I should probably grow woolly if I 
could not Lcet rid of it, I determined to 
devote what leisure the infernal instrument 
left me to making inquiries about Cavalanci 
and his curse — for, as most poisons have 
their antidote, I reckoned the same arrange- 
ment held good for curses. I spent 
all last year at Brescia, where these 
things were manufactured. I bought up 
every vestige of a relic of Cavalanci, took his 
shop for a spell of 999 years, and was pre- 
pared to stay my lease out unless I got what 

I wanted. I searched every 
corner and cranny of that 
air shop after the manner 
prescribed by the late R A* 
Poe. I spent days in the 
chimneys, and wasted a 
power of time in the roof; 
I took his old tester-bed to 
bits, and probed every inch 
of its wood ; and worked 
at the anatomy of the build- 
ing till the authorities sent 
word it was likely to fall, 
but all to no purpose. 

" I had about given up 
hope when I chanced upon 
a lineal descendant of Cava- 
lanci — a decayed Italian 
nobleman in the retail maca- 
roni business. From him 
I learnt of the existence of 
a tradition that Cavalanci 
on his death-bed was an- 
noyed to think of the 
trouble he had started, and 
got the Devil to promise 
that, when a combined band 
of all his fiddles played 
a certain air, the Curse 
should be removed, Why 
the Old Gentleman agreed 
to this arrangement my in- 
formant couldn't guess, 
unless he did it to soothe 
his friends last moments, no doubt feeling 
pretty certain that the combined land would 
never play till he'd got a lot of fun out of 
the Curse. 

" It sounded like a cock-and-bull tale, but 
the Italian nobleman seemed so certain about 
it, and was so much hurt when I doubted him, 
that I sort of began to believe in it myself. 
As luck had it, I had discovered a roll of 
manuscript music up the shop chimney, of 
which I had taken no pertie'ler account, but 
which now assumed considerable importance, 
As I had no piano handy in those days, I had 
been playing to my fiddle on a concertina, 
and it rather seemed to take to the instru- 
ment ; so the very next time it wanted me to 
accompany it, I started to work through that 
bunch of tunes on the same article. Now, 
whether it was the concertina it suddenly took 
a dislike to, or whether the tunes didn't agree 
with it, I don't pretend to say, but it turned 
sulky and wouldn't take a hand in noway, that 
is until I came to one pertie'ler air. It was 
a weird affair a sort of mixture of the 'Dead 
March in Saul' and * Hail, Columbia!' It 




struck in from the first note 

in a nasty 

. nagging way, and if ever a fiddle played 
unwillingly that one did. It lagged behind 
and put in commas and fi*!l-stops where 
they were not wanted, and in every other 
bar it screeched out a note of exclamation 
that wasn't down in my part. But I took 
it out of that Cavalanci, gentlemen, and- made 
it sit up, for when I'd run through the ditty I 
started it all over again, and that instrument 
followed me like a whipped cur. And then 
another remarkable thing happened. It 
changed colour— from yellow to orange and 
then to a dirty brown. I guess I'd touched 
it up at last ; and when I saw this I closed 
the concert and gave that Italian nobleman 
an order for macaroni that surprised him. 

u Although it regained its old colour, I was 
firmly convinced from the behaviour of my 
violin that the nobleman was right, and that 
if I could get the whole extant Cavalanci 
together the Curse could be broken ; and 
the last few months I have spent in tracing 
Bloomstein, the Baboo, and our friend James 
Dawson, and in making arrangements for 
this happy meeting. I thought it better to 
keep the notion from you, James, until now, 
for fear of incredulity on your part. And 
now, Colonel," turning to me, "you must 
assume possession of that Baboo's fiddle. It 
won't take ten minutes to break that air 

11 But if it doesn't break ? 7 1 nirged- ^ 

" It will break," said Simpson K. 

11 Saunders," said Dawson, who had 
worked himself up into a state of great 
excitement, vi I implore you to help us 
destroy this Curse. You owe it to me to 
do so, for it's all through you I got into 
the trouble at all" 

"I'm awfully sorry, Dawson/' I re- 
plied, "but I cannot. I was very strictly 
brought up, and my family would not like 
me to mix myself up in anything of this 
nature- You must respect my scruples." 

" And you must respect this, sir/' said 
the Yankee, holding his revolver at an 
extremely unpleasant angle. 

There was no help for it. "All 
right," I said, " I'll do it for my old 
friend Dawson's sake. Nothing else 
would have induced me. But I 
ean*t play any instrument," I added, 

" Mein Gott ! " exclaimed the 

** Why, I have heard you play 
1 Haydn's Surprise/ " said Dawson. 
"Only on one finger/' I modestly urged. 
"Try it, sir, with your toes if you like," 
said the Yankee. "And I shall be surprised 
if that fiddle don't respond. A Cavalanci 
aint perticler when it wants an owner." 

I sat down at the piano and played what I 
knew of the air. A shadow of despair came 
over Dawson's face, and the German put 
his fingers in his ears, but Simpson K. 
Masters encouraged me to persevere. 

"Keep it up, Colonel," said he. "Put 
the pedal on, it'll help you round the 

Before I had played a dozen notes a sound 
came from the table, 

" Hurrah ! ? * cried Dawson. 
"The Baboo's fiddle has bit," said Simpson 
K. Masters, 

Sure enough the violin had joined in, and 
I turned cold at the thought that I was now 
the owner of a Cavalanci violin. 

I played all I knew of the air and then 
stopped. The violin ceased as well. 

41 It would not let you off so easily in a 
week or two, Colonel," said the Yankee, 
grimly, "Now, gentlemen, here we are- 
the four extant Cavalanci and the four 
owners. All we have to do is to run 
through Cavalanci's Antidote and our 
troubles are over," 

With eager impatience Dawson sat down 
at the piano, the German produced a flageolet, 
and MastersQrftiitfcal from 




4i What am I to play? " said I, in dismay, 
" You mustn't leave me out." 

** Haven't you got anything, James ? " said 
the Yankee, "A drum would do." 

"I've nothing that I know of," replied 

"Then we must send out for some- 
thing/ 1 

"I have it/ 7 said Dawson. " I bought a 
triangle some vears ago, and ought to have it 

14 A driangle- goot ! " said Mr. Bloornstein, 
and Masters nodded his satisfaction. 

After some little delay the triangle was 
found, and when I had received a few in- 
structions*on the manipulation of this simple 
instrument Dawson sat down, and the 
quartet or rather octet - 
commenced. * 

I doiu think it was a 
success from a musical 
point of view, for we 
were all excited. Even 
the flute was off- colour. 
Still, we hung together 
pretty well, and stuck to 
the notes as well as we 
could, I tapped my triangle 
with considerable effect. 

The four Cavalanci 
joined in from the first 
note. It was a weird and 
mournful composition, and 
the violins kept up the 
pathos of the thing with 
remarkable effect. It was 
like the prolonged wail of 
a soul in torment, with 
sudden outbursts of Satanic 
joviality. Our feelings were 
strung to the highest pitch, 
for wc were playing for our 
lives. The sweat rolled 
off I'l<iomstein T s face, and 
Dawson's hands trembled 
like aspen leaves, Simpson 
K. Masters tried to appear 
unconcerned and failed, 

The others were intent 
on the notes, but as I played 
from ear I was able to 
observe the fiddles. I 
could feel my heart thump- 

ing as I watched them, Would the " Antidote " 
act, or was it all a delusion of the Yankee's? 
Was I not saddled for life with a fearful 
monstrosity which would finally undermine 
my reason ? 

Ha I it was touching them. Masters was 
right. They were changing colour ! They 
were a rich yellow when we started, but with 
every bar their hue deepened through vary- 
ing shades of orange, hrown, walnut, darker, 
darker still, till at last four coal-black violins 
lay upon the table, As the final bars came 
their notes shrieked out as if in terrible 
protest, and as the last chord was struck 
sixteen strings snapped with one crack. 

"Gentlemen," said the Yankee, "1 guess 
Signor Cavalmri s Curse is off." 


V.A <Tv!i.-40 

by Google 

Original from 

The Site of the Garden of Eden. 

By General Gordon. 

\1 he following article was written, an I illustrated with maps, by General Gordon, in iS8z, in the form of 
a letter to a friend, a missionary, and now sees the light for the fit si time. It is of unique interest ', not only 
on account oj the eminence of the writer \ hut also because of the fact that he was probably the most competent 
Person in tlu world to deal with this fascinxting subject, owing to the extent of his tesearches as an archaeologist 
in the Orient, combined with tlie deep religious feeling which was the keynote of all his actions.] 

HE following are the reasons for 

the theory that the Garden of 

Eden is at or near Seychelles. 

I could even put it at Praslin, 

a small isle twenty miles north 

of Mah£. 
Allow that Genesis is not allegorical, that 
Eden, its garden, its two trees, did exist on this 
earth. Eden is a district, the garden is a spot 
chosen in that district, the trees were actual 
trees, imbued for a time with spiritual quali- 
ties ; these trees, the bush, the ark, the 
tabernacle, a id temple differed nothing from 
the same things in the world except for the 
time during which they were spiritually con- 
secrated or set apart for manifestations of 
God, or Satan. God's consecration made 
things which were equally clean, clean and 
unclean ; therefore, I see no reason for doubt- 
ing that God did set apart the two trees to 
be^ one of Life, the other of Knowledge ; 
or that God, when these two trees had 
fulfilled their purpose, should have relegated 
them back to their former ordinary tree 
position. We see this in the way the temple 
is no more than another building; in the way 
th^ Philistines and Titus and Nebuchad- 
nezzar carried o.T the holy things of God 
which, at one time, it was death to touch. I 
therefore maintain that there is no reason to 
doubt but that two trees of the earth were 
used as mystical or sacramental trees in 
Eden's garden, or that they were destroyed 
when they had fulfilled their mission ; they 
w^re, I think, relegated back to their position 
as trees. 

Allowing this, what was the temptation of 
man ? Here is his soliloquy. " It must be 
good to eat ; it looks nice. I wonder what 
would be the effect of eating it, just a little 
bit." In this, we must put ourselves in 
man's position. He then could have no 
other temptation but this : he could only be 
tempted by his belly's appetite ; he could 
desire no carriages, dress, or jewels*; he had 
no one to be spiteful to, to be jealous of, to 
hate ; he could be greedy and he could be 
curious; he was as a child, curious and 
greedy, so that the temptation was neces- 
sarily, I think, that which it was. We ever 
have many doors open to temptation, for the 
increase of man increases the doors by which 
we can be tempted. The temptation was, in 

Digitized by V^iOOQlC 

its result, distrust of God, a feeling that God 
withheld something from man. In man is 
implanted by nature the spirit of inquiry. 
We all know this : tell a child not to open a 
certain book, he immediately has an immense 
longing to open that book, which he would 
not have noticed if he had not been for- 
bidden to touch it You can test it yourself : 
leave a dozen lozenges on your table, tell a 
child not to eat them, let the child see them 
constantly, tell him only once, and add to 
your telling that, if he eats, something 
unknown to him will happen. Keep treating 
the child kindly, so that he will not fear you : 
some day you will find eleven lozenges— at 
least, I think so. Therefore I think the for- 
bidding of the tree was even, to our own 
reason, a fair test to man, and that the very 
fact of this distrust and forgetfulness of God 
was virtually a communion with Satan, sl 
sacrament with Satan ; a mystical eating, 
though material, which led to Satan com- 
municating or inoculating man with evil, 
poisoning, tainting him. 

Now, with respect to the other tree, the 
Tree of Life, there is no reason to doubt 
but that man often had ate of it ; before 
his banquet on the forbidden tree, man 
had communed with God, when he named 
the animals, etc., and there is every pro- 
bability he did eat of the Tree of Life. I 
do not go into detail on this, for you know 
the Scriptures and you know what is written 
of the Bread of Life, the fruit of the Tree of 
Life, etc., which, eventually, in the last chapter 
of Revelation, appears again alone, not with 
the Tree of Knowledge ; therefore, I think 
man often partook of the Tree of Life in the 
garden. When he had eaten of the Tree of 
Knowledge, he was prevented from so doing, 
for he had acquired a taint from thus eating, 
which, if he had after eaten of the Tree of 
Life, would have given him immortality ; in 
his degraded state, he would have mixed God 
with Satan in their attributes, which cannot 
be : God will not serve with Satan. I do not 
go into all this, for I have not time, but I 
believe that the Tree of Life, spiritually, 
exists, also the Tree of Knowledge; that we 
eat sometimes of one, some often of the 
other ; that the fiery cherubim is the law 
which guards the Tree of Life, and it is only 
through the broken body, the veil of Christ, 




ay ^OOgie 

we can approach to eat th? fruit of the Tree 
of Life, which is Christ. 

I am now relating to you how these 
thoughts first struck me, and in the order in 
which they did 

Well, I thought there were two trees — 
actual trees— which had been sacramental, 
and had ceased to be so ; and in Praslin near 
Seychelles, and only there in the whole world, 
is a magnificent tree, curious beyond descrip- 
tion, called the Prince of the Vegetable 
Kingdom ; it is unique in its species, and 
on earth. The Laodicean Seychellarum, or 
Coco di'Mir. This, I believe, was the Tree 
of Knowledge. I then thought if the one 
tree is to be found, so is the other, and this 
I think is the Artocarpus incisa^ or bread- 
fruit ; it is a humble tree, of no great distinc- 
tion, yet to an observer it is as unique in its 
kind and among trees as the other. This 
last tree is only found in the Indian Ocean. 
It is a life-sustaining tree, and, like the other, 
it is full of Scriptural types. 

Having thought that these were the two 
trees, then the question arose : where was the 
Garden of Eden ? And first came the infor- 
mation that Seychelles is of granite, and all 
other isles out here are volcanic, granite being 
the more ancient formation. Then Rev. D. 
Bury mentioned casually that the verse 
Genesis ii., 10., could be read that the four 
rivers flowed into Eden, not out of it. I have 
been at the sources of Euphrates, Tigris, etc., 
etc., and unless the rivers were forced to flow 
backwards, no spot could agree to a central 
basin in those lands, while a flood does not 
change features of 10,000ft. high. So I took 
the rivers Euphrates — as Euphrates, on which 
is Babylon ; Hiddekel as Tigris, on which 
is Ni leveh {vide Daniel). They meet and 
flow into the Persian Gulf. 

Babylon oppressed Israel — Nineveh op- 
pressed Israel. Required two other rivers 
connected with oppression of Israel. 

The question of whether ever a river came 
down the Valley of Jordan into \S\t Red Sea 
is one which has been much discussed. 
That an immense crevasse exists from the 
source of the Jordan to the Red Sea is 
the case ; the depression of the Dead Sea 
is the difficulty ; the ravines of Kedron and 
Gihon are very deep. 

Taking my ground spiritually, and the 
similarity of the name Gihon with the brook 
of Jerusalem, I think that they are the same. 

The Pison, or Nile, flowed into the Red 
Sea, the Gihon or Gihon Brook flowed into 
the Red Sea, joined, flowed down, met the 
Euphrates and Tigris, united near Socotra, 

■-■I I '_| 1 1 I u I \\\ 




and the soundings shown end in a deep hasin 
2,600 fathoms deep, which is close to Sey- 
chelles. Cttsk is written in margin for 
Ethiopia, Cush was son of Nimrod* ; his 
land was probably near Babylon, now Bah 
el Mandeb. Perim means Bait (gate) el (of) 
Mtuideb (the world). 

Pison means overflowing — the Nile over- 
flows. Egypt oppressed Israel The Nile is 
believed now to flow into the Red Sea ■ the 
Blue Nile encompasses Godjam, a province of 
Abyssinia, in which there is gold. Havilah, 
son of Joktan, son of Shem, went with Sheba 
and Ophir 10 Mesha (Sale's Koran says) 

This is about the substance of everything 
about Eden its garden and its trees ; quite 
useless unless it tended to illustrate a great 
truth. The first word God utters to man is 
u Thou shaft not eat 7 ' ; the last injunction 
Christ gives is " Take> eaL' 7 To the world 
at large the history of the Fall is foolishness : 
such effects could never come from so small 
a cause as eating of a tree. So the large pro- 
portion of professing Christians, they believe 
the first, but put aside the second, eating, 
as impossible to produce any such effects. 

What was the forbidden fruit? It was 
fruit of the ground* What is the bidden fruit ? 

the mtb or im: tiAktiKN cc i-.ukn : a facsimile of conon* * mat. 

and spread along the Red Sea. The Sea of 
Zugla, opposite Aden, is called Sinus Havilah 
Sheba, and Ophir is generally connected with 
Abyssinia, so I think Pison is Nile, 

Gih<Hi means " bursting forth " ; the brook 
Gihon is southern side or Jerusalem ; it meets 
Kedron and flows, when it does flow, to the 
Salt Sea (Dead Sea), by the Valley of Fire ; 
it is Tophet, Hinnom, the Valley of Slaughter, 
the sewer of Jerusalem, the site of all abomin- 
able sacrifices ; il is connected with Jerusalem 
in an evil way ; it has the same name as 
f ienesis. Now comes a difficulty* t 

* This appears to lie ;iti uvtrsighL S*re Citrtcsis x, 6: "And 
Q\v&\ hcgaL NhrmxJ.' 1 

t He re follow the maps reproduced ap tlje opposite page. 


It is fruit of corn and juice of grape. Both 

nothing yet one caused great things. May 

not the other cause greater? The sequence 

of the one eating was not known ; the 

sequence of the other may not be known in 

its fulness. Vet it may be believed to be 

far, infinitely far greater. A child and the 

highest angel can understand that by eating 

a poison one is ill, by eating an antidote one 

is cured. Vet the highest angel could not 

understand the depths of either eating. Are 

we, therefore, to wait for that understanding ? 

We ate in Adam in distrust^ let us eat in 

trust Let even curiosity lead us to do so. 

We are bidden- . Why not try it ? 
Original from 




by Google 

Original from 

Baron Brampton of Brampton, 

By " E." 

ERHAPS no living lawyer 
filled i he public eye in a more 
complete manner than Sir 
Henry Hawkins, to call him 
for the moment by the long- 
familiar title, Famous as an 
advocate, celebrated as a judge, distinguished 
alike by catholicity of tastes, vast experi- 
tiH < nf life, and knowledge of the princi- 
ples and details of law, it might not 
unreasonably be thought that of all men 
he has the most frequently fallen a prey- 
to the pen of the 
interviewer, But 
such is not the case ; 
for, though inter- 
viewers of all sorts 
and conditions have 
endeavoured to secure 
his attention, he has 
invariably turned a 
deaf ear to the jour- 
nalistic charmer, and 
refused to assist in 
the publication of his 
interesting record. If 
he would write it r or 
allow it to be written, 
what a history it would 
be of nearly sixty 
years of intellectual 
life ! 

When discussing 
this subject one day, 
Lord Brampton told 
me that he had pre- 
served no reports, 
kept no diary, and 
was entirely depen- 
dent on his memory 
for the facts of a 
successful career. 

" I have often been asked to write my 
memoirs, '* he said; "but, apart from the 
trouble of doing so, I do not like the idea, 
Vuu see, if I said anything good of myself, 
my unkind critics would write me down vain* 
and — well, I am certainly not going to point 
out mv defects to an over-discriminating 

Lord Brampton was born on the 14th 
of September, 181 7, at Hitchin, in the 
County of Hertford. His father was a much 
respected and esteemed family solicitor, and 
his son was at one time destined to follow 
him in that honourable profession. How- 

Digitized by GoOQk 


Prom « Photo. 

ever, this was not to be, for the future judge 
aspired to a greater fame than was attainable 
by the practice of the law in a small country 
town, and determined to try his fortune in 
the more uncertain branch of the legal 
profession— the Bar. 

Accordingly, as soon as he could do so, he 
turned towards London, and entered as a 
student at the Middle Temple. During his 
student days he studied unremittingly, in 
grim and serious earnest, catching but few 
glimpses of pleasure, and striving unceasingly 

to prepare himself for 
the desperate battle 
which success at the 
Bar entails, In 1841 
he went into the 
chambers of a special 
pleader, and after his 
term had expired as 
a pupil, he set up for 
himself, and did a 
good practice " under 
the Bar." 

In a year or two he 
tired of the solitude of 
a pleader's chambers, 
and while acknow- 
ledging his great in- 
debtedness to the 
system of pleading 
then in vogue, as a 
never- to-be-surpassed 
teacher of law, he 
entered the wider 
field of advocacy, and 
in May, 1843, was 
called to the Bar at 
the Middle Temple* 

Every man worth 
his salt has enemies, 
and unscrupulous 
they ofttimes are ; but it is certain that not 
even the most venomous of personal foes 
-would deny that the cup of success was 
well filled for Lord Brampton during the 
thirty-three years when, either as Junior or 
Queen's Counsel, he was a prominent figure 
at the Bar 

No success chronicled in the pages of 
history was ever more honestly won, no 
success was. ever more complete ; it was 
founded on a basis of combined ability 
and determination, and, therefore, stood on 
the soundest or all foundations. 

And here let me correct a very erroneous 
Origmaffrom ' 


hu hitutU ft Fry. 



i 111 press ion which, although never prevalent, 
has been voiced by many whom ignorance 
or envy lias led astray. It is absolutely untrue 
that Lord Brampton received any assistance 
from his relations : his father gave him no 
work* for the simple reason he had none to 
give; he could, it is true, introduce his son 
to his friends in the county, but any pro- 
fessional assistance was out of his power. 
And thus it may be truly said that Lord 
Brampton owes the whole of his successful 
career s both socially and professionally, to his 
own unaided efforts. 

The work of his early life was severe, and 
on one occasion Lord Brampton, when speak- 
ing of his entering the profession, used 
words that will awake a responsive echo in 
many a junior's heart : M If I had known 
what was before me, what the awful un- 
certainty of success at the Bar really w f as, 
I don't think I should ever have dared to 
face it, and I 
certainly would 
advise no young 
man to embark in 
it without ample 
means at his back 
to support the 
possibility of 

The work was 
indeed severe, 
but his career was 
unpreceden te d 1 y 
successful As a 
junior, he was 
engaged in many 
great trials. At 
the Old Bailey, 
in 1853, when 
Strahan, Paul, 
and Bates, the 
bankers, were 
tried for embez- 
zling securities 
belonging to their 
customers, before 
Baron Alderson 
and Mr, Justice 
W 1 1 1 e s , Lord 
Brampton ap- 
peared with Ser- 
jeant Byles for 
Sir John Dean 

Despite his 
efforts, his client, 
with the other 
prisoners, was 


convicted and sentenced to fourteen years' 

Before this* in 1847, he had defended a 
man named Pollard, who was charged with 
defrauding Prir.ce Louis Napoleon, afterwards 
Emperor of the French, and had the duty 
cast upon him of cross -examining at Bow 
Street the future Sovereign, who, it has been 
stated by Lord Brampton, gave his evidence 
clearly and well. In 1858 he successfully 
defended, with Mr. Edwin James, Q.C, 
Serjeant Simon, and others, Simon Bernard, 
who was charged with being an accessory to 
Orsini's conspiracy against the life of Napoleon 
II L, and he figured in many other great 
cases* But it was when he " took silk " that 
he startled the whole professional world by 
developing a practice which has never been 
excelled, and rarely equalled. 

Among some of the great cases he was 
engaged in as a Q C was the case of Saurin 

v* Starr, known as 
the Convent case; 
the Lord St, Leo- 
nard's will case ; 
the Gladstone 
and the Van 
Reable divorce 
suits ; the West- 
minster Election 
Petition, in which 
he defended Mr. 
W. H. Smith's 
seal; the Rouptll 
case and theTich- 
borne case ; and 
the charge against 
Colonel Valen- 
tine Baker, whom 
be defended at 
Croydon Assizes 
in 1875; all of 
which are land- 
marks in the his- 
tory of the law, 
and stages in the 
progress of a great 

Lord Bramp- 
ton was created a 
Queen's Counsel, 
in 1858. For a 
very long time he 
had what is tech- 
nically termed 
** led in stufT," 
that is, he did a 
large u leading IJ 
business as a 




junior, The reason for this was that it had 
been intimated to the Bar that no more 
"silks" would be made for some time; for 
in those days, unlike the present, a silk gown 
.was deemed to be a proof of exceptional 
position at the Bar, and was much more 
difficult to obtain than at the present day. 

The number was 
consequently very 
limited. This pressed 
very hardly on Lord 
Brampton, for he 
practically was forced 
todoaQ + C/s business 
for stuff gownsmen's 
fees. However, 
directly Sir Frederick 
Thesiger became 
Lord Chelmsford and 
Lord Chancellor, one 
of his first official acts 
was to recommend 
for " silk M the coun- 
sel who had long 
merited it. 

Sixty years have 
gone since Lord 
Brampton attended 
for the first time a 
criminal trial He 
had not then been 
"called," and the 
case was a very terri- 
ble one, The place 
was Hertford, the 
occasion the Assizes, and the prisoners two 
boys named Roche and Fletcher, who were 
indicted before Mr. Justice Vaughan for 
wilful murder. 

The reported facts of the rase were that 
the prisoners and some other boys — one of 
whom was named Taylor - had attacked and 
robbed an old man, whom they finally left, 
exhausted but not fatally injured, in the road. 
When they had proceeded some little way, 
Taylor, without mentioning his intention to 
his companions, returned to the place of 
the robbery and gave the old man a fatal 
kick. Roche and Fletcher had apparently 
nothing more to do with the murder ; 
hut, in the result, they were convicted, 
sentenced to death, and ultimately hanged. 
The scene in court was so painful as to 
mnke an ineffaceable impression on one at 
least of the bystanders* When the verdict 
of the jury was given, the prisoners fell help- 
lessly over the front of the dock, and had to 
be carried to their cells. The man who had 
really been the cause of the old man's death 

zed by Google 


Firtm a Photo, op 

escaped for a time, and enlisted in a line 
regiment. The police, however, intercepted 
a letter from him to his relatives, opened 
it, and found his address. He was speedily 
arrested, was tried at the Hertford Assizes, 
and was atso hanged. 

Lord Brampton began his legal life in the 
days when Sir F. 
Pollock and Sir W. 
Follett, Sir Fitzroy 
Kelly, Adolphus, and 
others, were practising 
barristers. Those, 
too, were the days of 
Charles Philli ps, 
Clark son, Bodkin, 
Payne, and others of 
a bygone generation, 
whose names will 
readily suggest them- 
selves to the lawyer 
on criminal trials at 
the Old Bailey. They 
used to sit then from 
9 a,m. till 9 p.m. ; 
there were two din- 
ners, one at three 
o*clock, the other at 
five, at which judges, 
banisters, and friends 
of the 1 ,ord Mayor and 
officials used to dine. 
Those days and their 

K l&S P N T li A V 

Mann !* ru. customs have gone — 

a nd so much the bet ten 

Lord Brampton was never a mere criminal 
lawyer, though he certainly defended many 
prisoners both in London and on the Home 
Circuit, but he never attached himself in any 
way to the Criminal Courts, 

He is fond of telling the story of a 
trial which took place on his first visit to 
the Old Bailey, and which may lie sum- 
marized as follows : Montague Chambers 
was defending a man for murder and robbery. 
I do not know the name of the prisoner, 
but the crime was committed in Pocock 
Fields Islington. The evidence was strong, 
but somehow or othur Chambers succeeded 
in getting him olT, and after the trial the man 
left the court with his friends, who had 
arranged to send him out of the country. 
Unfortunately for him, that same evening he 
went into a public-house, and under the 
influence of drink, not only confessed, but 
even stated that he had thrown the piece of 
wood he had used in committing the crime 
into a pond, which he specified. One of the 
bystanders n^rtfji j fl^f rofaf sa ^ tTr> ^ ^ iei1 




communicated with the police, who went to 
the pond and there discovered the piece of 
wood. The result was that the man was 
arrested on board the ship thrtt was to have 
taken him to Australia, and being tried for 
robbery, he was sentenced to be transported 
for life. 

I may add, for the benefit of the ordinary 
reader, that, having once been acquitted of 
murder, the miscreant could not be tried 
again for that offence, but as on that trial 
he could not have been found guilty of 
the robbery he had committed, he had 
never been in peril of conviction for that 
crime, and so was properly tried and sen- 

The much-debated question whether, if a 
prisoner has confessed his guilt to his counsel, 
that counsel should afterwards defend him, 
came prominently to the front in court in 

the trial of Courvoisier, 

The facts of that notorious 

case are, shortly, as follows : 

Courvoisier was the valet of 

Lord William Russell, who, 

on May the 6th, 1840, was 

found murdered at his house 

in Park I^ane. As the result 

of investigation, Courvoisier 

was apprehended, and on 

June 1 8th he was tried for 

the murder at the Old Bailey 

before three judges, of whom 

the late Mr. Baron Parke 

was one. Charles Phillips, 

a very celebrated advocate, 

defended, and the first two 

days of the trial were on the 

whole not hopeless to the 

prisoner. But before the third day arrived, it 

was discovered that certain plate which had 

disappeared from Lord William's house had 

been deposited at a house in or near Leicester 

Square soon after the murder by Courvoisier. 

On this discovery being made known to the 

prisoner, he had an interview with his 

counsel and practically confessed his guilt. 

Phillips then went to Mr. Baron Parke and 

asked what he should do, and that learned 

judge told him to continue the -defence. 

This Phillips did, and in his speech to the 

jury he made use of certain expressions 

which were thought by some to convey a 

positive falsehood. For this he was greatly 

blamed, not only in the Press, but by a large 

section of the Bar. 

I once heard Lord Brampton speak of this, 
and he emphatically and without any reser- 
vation took the side of Phillips, and his 

Vol, xviL-41 

LtMtD BRA M PrOS AS A <}iC. r lU&o. 
from a PJwtu. by Manll it JWfbJaMJr. 

views on the matter are identical with those 
that are now expressed. 

u In the first place, Phillips had been 
charged with telling a lie : this was a most 
unfair and stupid accusation. It is true 
that, having reason to believe that Cour- 
voisier had killed Ix>rd William Russell, he 
said, 'The Almighty God above alone knows 
who did this deed of darkness,' but 
that didn't mean that neither the prisoner 
nor his counsel knew. Phillips was an 
advocate, and was fully entitled to insist on 
preserving his character as such* He had a 
right to refuse to regard the case outside of 
the evidence given. It is also said that, 
knowing what he did, he tried to fix the crime 
on a servant girl, who wa^ clearly innocent. 
He did no such thing ; what he did say was, 
*If this fact'- alluding to one of the incidents 
of the trial—' is relied on by the prosecution 
it might equally well be relied 
on against the girl, who did 
the same thing, and might 
equally well be advanced to 
prove she committed the 
murder ' ; but Phillips never 
suggested guilt in her*" 

Some time after, when 
speaking of that case to 
Lord Brampton, I trespassed 
on his forbearance and asked 
him : "Assuming that a pri- 
soner confesses his guilt to 
his advocate, I gather that it 
is in your opinion the duty 
of counsel to go on with the 
defence ? " 

" Most certainly; the 
prisoner makes a state- 
ment to his counsel for the purpose of 
his defence, and not to manufacture a 
witness against himself. It is an advocate's 
duty to confine himself to the task of 
pointing out to a jury that the evidence 
before the Court is not sufficient to 
warrant a conviction. He has no business 
to go beyond it. An advocate should not 
lie, and should not impute a crime to an 
innocent person ; but short of that he ought, 
as an advocate in dealing with the evidence, 
to do all in his power to bring about the 
liberation of his client. But he has no right 
to express his own opinion upon the guilt 
or innocence of his client An ad oeate 
should free himself from his own individuality 
as a private citizen directly he assumes the 
character of an advocate," 

Another story, which Lord Brampton tells 
with profound effect, i* that of his first defence 




in a murder cast, which, in addition to being 
interesting, throws light on the subject I have 
just been discussing. Some time after lie was 
" called/' he was at Maidstone Assizes, He 
had been retained to defend three people who 
were accused of wilful murder. They were all 
of one family — a father, motherland son — and 
their alleged victim was a poor servant girl, 
who had undoubtedly been killed for the 
sake of the very small sum of money she 
possessed. After dinner, on the day he 
arrived in the town, he was sitting in his 
lodgings just about to begin working at his 
brief, when the solicitor instructing him came 
in. He said : — 

" Mr, Hawkins, I have a rather strange 
question to put to you, and one which I am 
not sure you will answer/ 1 

" What is it ? " he replied. 

14 1 have just seen the female prisoner ; 
she wishes me to ask you whether, in the 
event of her pleading guilty to the murder* 
you will be able to save her husband and her 
son. She is perfectly willing to admit the 
whole charge, and take the full responsibility 
for her crime. She will say that she, and she 
alone, did the murder, if you think she will, 
by so doing, save her husband and son," 

Lord Brampton replied that he hadn't read 
his brief, and couldn't say. "Is it a bad 
ca^e ? " he asked. 

** A terribly bad case; it could not be 
worse ! " was the answer, which clearly 
showed him that the 
woman's plea of 
"guilty " would be a 
true plea, and the men's 
pleas of " not guilty" 

" Have you told her 
that if she does plead 
guilty she will be 
hanged ? " 

" Yes, she knows 
that. She is prepared to 
take the consequences 
if she can free her bus- 
band and her son.' 

Lord Brampton pro- 
mised to read the brief 
and tell him in the 
morning his opinion of 
his clients' position. 
After reading the brief 
he came to the con- 
clusion that they were 
all three guilty or all 
innocent, In the result 
they all pleaded u not 

guilty," and he defended them successfully 
on the evidence. 

When the series of lawsuits which cul- 
minated in the trial at Bar of the Claimant 
to the Tich borne Estates was first launched. 
Lord Brampton was a Queen 7 s Counsel \\\ 
possession of a practice which in retainers 
alone amounted to hundreds a year. 

The magnitude of such a practice can 
only be properly appreciated by those 
who were acquainted with it, and it 
must suffice to say that very few of our 
most heavily-feed counsel have ever come 
within measurable distance of it. At the 
time when Arthur Orton first startled the 
country by preferring a claim to estates 
bringing in over twenty thousand a year, Lord 
Brampton found himself in the happy position 
of being retained both for the Claimant and 
for the trustees of one of the estates. It 
was obvious that he could not act for both 
parties, so he arranged to appear for the 
delendants. Want of space prevents me 
from recalling even the salient points of that 
great case, or of Lord Brampton's part in it, 
but it is generally admitted in legal circles 
that his conduct throughout the Tich borne 
litigation was of pre-eminent excellence* 

On the 2nd of November, 1S76, Lord 
Brampton was raised to the Bench, This ap- 
pyintment created some surprise, not because 
the new judge was not every where considered 
worthy of the honour, but for the very — in 
these days *— singular 
reason that, having 
already refused a judge- 
ship, it was thought that 
he did not desire pro- 
motion. However, Time 
can do a great deal, ;ind 
Time, in this connec- 
tion, reconciled Lord 
Brampton to the sur- 
render of the great 
position he held among 
English advocates. He 
accordingly exchanged 
the successful, trouble- 
some labours of the 
Bar for the dignified 
leisure oF a judge's 
career. At the end of 
this article, my views of 
my subject as a judge 
will be found shortly 
expressed, and now I 
am concerned with 
— history* But, still, let 
d"ui*f M i. ' I fcwmwice and for all 





Bu flwsioZ jxrmUtwn of the Proprietor* of M VanUg Fair.** 

say this : that to identify severity with Lord 
Brampton is to attempt to range under 
a common classification things that are 
essentially different 

Those who have experience of I aw Courts 
will know that Lord Brampton was ever on 
the side of the weak, and, to my mind, took 
an even exaggerated view of the dignity of 

It is well known that he is entirely opposed 
either to birching or flogging. He holds 
and has publicly stated that such a punish- 
ment M brutalizes the person who suffers it, 
and tends to brutalize the person inflicting 
it; that it is cruel and barbarous, and only 
tends to excite a spirit of dogged revenge 
in the culprit/ 5 He does not believe that 
flogging put down garroting, and has often 
condemned the system of giving a man a 

short sentence and a flogging as 
radically bad The man suffers 
his punishment— he argues— and by 
the time he has served his term, has 
forgotten all about it u The fear of 
such another punishment again is, 
experience tells us, insufficient to be 
really deterrent ; so the result is that 
you turn a man into a devil, and 
have not one atom of good to show 
for the sacrifice," 

Only once has he sentenced a 
person to be flogged, and then it 
was a very brutal case, which was 
tried many years ago at Leeds, The 
prisoner got his victim down, and 
deliberately ground his iron-heeled 
hoot into his eye. It was an ex- 
ceptionally bad case, but even then 
the punishment was indefensible in 
principle. He objected to ordering 
children to be birched, for the idea 
of sending a poor little fellow to be 
flogged by a prison warder in a 
prison yard was repulsive to him ; 
and, besides, he deemed the punish- 
ment both cruel and useless. He 
was of opinion that a birching not 
only degrades the child, but it, so to 
speak, stereotypes the fault in his 
nature, leaving a painful memory to 
the end of his life. The criminal 
population owe a great deal to Lord 
Brampton, for he was the foremost in 
insisting on the speedy trial of pris- 
oners, and the propriety of allowing 
bail in all but the most serious cases. 
In many other respects, too, he 
advocated the more enlightened and 
merciful treatment of prisoners. 
He defends the ticket-oMeave system as 
one which, while assisting in the preservation 
of prison discipline by encouraging good 
conduct, renders the convict's life less 
hopeless and less dreary ; but he condemns 
the system of " police supervision," whose 
evils he has too often seen evidenced. 

A man when he leaves prison should be 
able to begin life afresh, and it would have 
been bad for a policeman proved guilty of 
interfering with a ticket-of-leave man who was 
doing his best to gain an honest livelihood, 
had Lord Brampton been called upon to 
speak his mind. 

It is well known that he does not dis- 
approve of the capital sentence, which he 
would limit to cases of murder other than 
infanticide-, and "constructive murder " by a 
mother, ^ J Tl9i ri MctP Siems imperative, for 




if death were not the punishment for murder, 
every burglar would carry his revolver and 
argue : " If I kill my victim I may escape ; if 
1 don't, five or ten years more may be my fate 
— it is worth trying/* The criminal classes 
don't joke with their necks, but they will 
always risk a given term of penal servitude, 
u There is no doubt," he said to me when 
speaking on this subject, M that the capital 
sentence is absolutely necessary to the well- 
being of the community." 

In meting out punishment, Lord Brampton 
took all the circumstances of the case 
into consideration, and never punished a 
mere momentary lapse into crime with 
severity, unless attended 
with deliberate cruelty. 
He believes that the 
proper end of punish- 
ment is to deter > and 
not merely to inflict 
pain. He approves of 
long terms for habitual 
offenders convicted of 
serious crimes, but not 
for the man or woman 
who has through some 
great temptation or 
weakness momentarily 

Among the chief 
criminal cases over 
which he has presided 
was the Penge mystery. 
This case was tried at 
the Old Bailey in 1877, 
and ended in the four 
prisoners being sen- 
tenced to death. It 
is common knowledge 
that the whole batch 
was subsequently re- 
prieved, and Lord 
Brampton's opinion as 
to the propriety of the intervention of the 
Home Secretary is also well known. 

At the Old Bailey, in 1879, a woman 
named Hannah Dobbs was tried for murder 
before Lord Brampton— strange to say, at the 
same time that Kate Webster was being 
tried in an adjoining court for a similar crime 
by Mr. Justice Penman, The facts, shortly, 
are as follows : A Miss Hacker Icdged in 
Euston Square with a certain married 
couple* She was an eccentric old lady, 
and always kept a large sum of money 
in a cash-box in her bedroom. Hannah 
Dobbs was a servant in the house. One 
Sunday, Dobbs told her master and 

From a / '.'... !"■.■. f>tf TK1AI. 

mistress that Miss Hacker had left the 
house. Kour days afterwards, her master 
and mistress went up to Miss Hacker's room, 
found it empty, and on the carpet a stain of 
blood, which had been partially washed out 
A few days afterwards, Dobbs was seen with 
a book of dreams, which had belonged to 
Miss Hacker ; she gave the lid of Miss 
Hacker's cash-box to a child for a plaything, 
and was noticed to be wearing a watch and 
chain she had not worn before — and which 
were proved to have been Miss Hacker's, 
In her box, also, were found several articles 
which were identified as having belonged to 
Miss Hacker Seven or eight months after- 
ward^ the body of Miss 
Hacker was found in 
the cellar, and Dobbs 
was put on her trial for 
murder. The circum- 
stantial evidence against 
her was very strong, but 
the defence was that 
another person —a sug- 
gested lover — had 
killed the woman, and 
had given the things to 
Dobbs. This line was 
successful and Dobbs 
was acquitted. The 
other person was soon 
afterwards put upon 
his trial for perjury 
arising out of this case, 
and was sentenced to 
twelve months' hard 
labour by Lord Bramp- 
ton. Hannah Dobbs 
owed a great deal to 
Lord Brampton, who 
always took the view 
that, although the 
evidence against a 
prisoner may be strong, 
the punishment of death is such a terrible 
and irrevocable one, that it ought only to be 
pronounced on the very clearest evidence. 
The evidence in this case was not such as to 
exclude a reasonable doubt, and so Mr. Mead 
(the present police magistrate) succeeded in 
getting his client off. 

Referring for a moment to the trial of 
the Muswell Hill burglars, it is reported 
that when someone asked Lord Brampton, 
u Was there not a doubt as to the complicity of 
Milsom in the murder?" he replied, "Not 
the very slightest ; what made you think so?" 
44 The reports in .the newspapers seemed just 
compatible QstBintBtfltfife'&ry of the defence," 



. 1873. [McmftAFb*. 



*' Yes," said Lord Brampton, in a convincingly 
humorous tone ; " but / try a case on the 
evidence given in court ; and on that 
evidence no reasonable person could doubt 
that Milsom was quite as guilty as Fowler." 

Lamson, whose guilt was never in doubt, 
was another criminal tried by Lord Brampton ; 
and the thief and murderer Charles Peace was 
also brought before him at the Old Bailey, 
in 1878. He was charged with shooting 
at a constable with intent to murder him, 
and on being convicted he made a long, 
passionate, tearful appeal for mercy, the 
while he literally " grovelled " before the 
judge. Mr. Montagu Williams's account of 
this incident is well worthy of reproduc- 
tion : — 

" This harangue seemed to have an effect 
upon everybody in court except the man to 
whom it was addressed. It was a great treat 
to watch the face of Mr. Justice Hawkins 
during the speech. When it was over, his 
Lordship, without any sort of comment, 
promptly sentenced the delinquent to penal 
servitude for life " ; and thus, I may add, 
dealt with him as he deserved. 

Another important murder trial over which 
Lord Brampton presided was that of the 
poisoner, Neill Cream, a few years ago. 

It is frequently a subject of debate in 
legal circles as to whether and how far 
evidence bearing only on motive, state of 
mind, previous or subsequent conduct as 
tending to prove system or guilt in the par- 
ticular case, can be given by the Crown on 
the trial of a prisoner. It is too technical 
a question to discuss here, but in Cream's 
case Lord Brampton admitted evidence of 
subsequent administration of poison by the 
prisoner to persons other than the woman 
for whose murder he was then standing 
his trial. There is no doubt that this 
was a correct ruling ; and in order to 
illustrate the necessity of having occasionally 
to try other issues than the main issue, in 
order to establish the latter, the following 
account may be given. Somewhere about 
1880, a farmer living in Essex was awakened 
one night by a noise in his courtyard. He 
opened the window, and put out his head to 
see who or what it was. As he did so, a 
man outside discharged a gun full in his face, 
and killed him on the spot. The murderer 
then broke and entered the house and stole 
some valuables. He then disappeared, leav- 
ing no apparent clue. The next day a chisel 
which had been used for the purpose of effect- 
ing an entrance was found in the farmhouse. 
Some time after, a discharged gun was found 

in a copse near the house. Inquiries were 
set on foot, and it was found that the gun 
had been stolen some weeks previously from 
another house in the neighbourhood, and, 
strange to say, it was also ascertained that 
the thief had in that case also left behind 
him a chisel^ similar to the one found in the 
farmhouse. The police then set to work to 
find out where the chisels came from, and 
they found that they had been stolen from a 
blacksmith's forge in a village near the farm- 
house. As the result of further inquiries, a 
man was arrested, and was tried before Lord 
Brampton at Chelmsford, for wilful murder. 
The main issue, of course, was : " Did the 
prisoner kill and murder the farmer?'' The 
subordinate issues were : " Did the prisoner 
steal the gun? Did he steal the chisels ? " If 
he did, it was almost of itself conclusive of 
his guilt. The jury found that he did steal 
the gun, that he did steal the chisels, and 
further that he did shoot at and murder the 
farmer. The result was that the prisoner 
was convicted, sentenced to death, and 
executed, after a trial which was described 
by the judge as u highly satisfactory." 

Counsel frequently complain that — to 
speak plainly — judges take sides, and they 
argue that a judge's duty is merely to preside 
and take notes, and dispassionately sum up the 
facts. This view I have myself on occasions 
countenanced. Now, one of our strongest 
judges was Lord Brampton ; and as his power 
of marshalling facts was very great, he 
has frequently been the subject of discussion. 
Without entering into an analytical disqui- 
sition on the point, one thing is certain, and 
that is that he always took the greatest care to 
study the proof and effect of every alleged 
fact before he dealt with any case, be it civil 
or criminal. But when he dealt with it he 
did so with an earnest desire to arrive at the 
truth. He interfered with counsel as little as 
possible, but was, of course, bound to prevent 
them leading the jury off on a side issue, the 
while they might well hesitate to approach the 
main question. After all, a judge is a judge, 
and should remember that he sits not to 
perform the mechanical duties of an 
automaton, but to see, to the best of his 
ability, that justice is done. 

Lord Brampton's love of animals is well 
known, and no article, even written from 
a strict professional standpoint — such as 
this is — would be complete without a refer- 
ence to his dog Jack, ot whom Lord Brampton 
wrote : " I can say that a more intelligent, 
faithful, and affectionate creature never had 
existence, und to him I have been indebted 


UHIY \-T\J\ I I 



pi-nm a Photo, bu M<inl\ it An, 

for very many of the happiest years of my 
life.' 7 

Poor Jack is now no more, hut his master 
is faithful to his servant even in death. 
None supplies his place* He was given to 
Lord Brampton by his friend the late Lord 
Falmouth, and after thirteen years' close 
companionship, Lord Brampton felt his loss 
very deeply. The mutual affection existing 
between Jack and his master is not an un- 
faithful index to the character of Lord 

During Lord Brampton's career at the Bar 
his success was remarkable. In the words of 
Mr. Montagu Williams : " He was not only 
the greatest and most astute advocate of his 
time in ordinary civil coses, but he had the 
largest practice in compensation claims/ 1 
And here, by the way, it may be mentioned 

that he was retained to 
defend in nearly all the 
claims made by owners of 
the property on which the 
Royal Courts of Justice are 

His power of dealing with 
every case before him was 
at the Bar unrivalled: and 
the imperturbable coolness, 
the thoroughness, the great 
personal' individual force, 
the lucidity, the persuasive- 
ness which he has ever 
brought to bear on his 
work, rendered him as 
deadly an opponent and as 
powerlul a friend as could 
be found in a Court of 
Justice. In cross-examina- 
tion, his powers may be 
described in the words of 
the late Chief Baron Kelly, 
which were spoken at a 
dinner, soon after Lord 
Brampton became a 
judge : — 

ts Of my friend Mr. Haw- 
kins, I can only say this : 
that no man ever surpassed 
and few have equalled him 
as a cross-examiner ; I place 
him on a level with Garrow 
and with Scarlett, whom no 
one has ever excelled," and 
this re-echoes the opinion which those who 
knew Lord Brampton at the Bar universally 

As a judge, he had his critics, but not 
even the sourest would venture to assert that 
as a lawyer he was not excellent That he held 
the scales of Justice evenly balanced between 
party and party, and Queen and citizen, is as 
well known as the most elementary axiom of 

One who knew him well wrote of him as 
"the kindest man in the world where women, 
children, and animals are concerned," and 
that description is true. Whatever may be 
Lord Brampton's faults he stands confessed 
as an upright and fearless judge, and the 
. owner of a name which as long as records 
last will always proudly shine forth from the 
pages devoted to the great tines of the I £l\\\ 


by Google 

Original from 


3 2 9 

object to which, as I judged, she was devoting 
her life quite as single- mindedly as Sebastian 
himself had devoted his to the advancement 
of science. 

" Why did she become a nurse at all ? " I 
asked once of her friend, Mrs. Mallet. " She 
has plenty of money, and seems well enough 
off to live without working." 

"Oh, dear, yes," Mrs. Mallet answered. 
" She is independent, quite ; has a tidy little 
income of her own — six or seven hundred a 
year — and she could choose her own society. 
But she went in for this mission fad early ; 
she didn't intend to marry, she said, so she 
would like to have some work to do in life. 
Girls suffer like that, nowadays. In her case, 
the malady took the form of nursing." 

"As a rule," I ventured to interpose, 
"when a pretty girl says she doesn't intend 
to marry, her remark is premature. It only 


"Oh, yes, I know. Every girl says it ; 'tis 
a stock property in the popular masqtie of 
Maiden Modesty. But with Hilda it is 
different. And the difference is — that Hilda 
means it." 

" You are right," I answered. " I believe 
she means it. Yet I know one man at 
leasts "-for I admired her immensely. r " 

Mrs, Mallet shook her head and: smiled. 
"It is no use, Dr. Cumberledge," she 
answered. " Hilda will never marry. Never, 
that is to say, till she has attained some 
mysterious object she seems to have in 
view, about which she never speaks to anyone 
— not even to me. But I have somehow 
guessed it." 

" And it is ? " 

" Oh, I have not guessed what it is ; I am 
no CEdipus : I have merely guessed that it 
exists. But whatever it may be, Hilda's life 
is bounded by it. She became a nurse to 
carry it out, I feel confident. From the very 
beginning, I gather, part of her scheme was 
to go to St. Nathaniel's. She was always 
bothering us to give her introductions to Dr. 
Sebastian ; and when she met you at my 
brother Hugo's, it was a preconcerted 
arrangement ; she asked to sit next you, and 
meant to induce you to use your influence on 
her behalf with the Professor. She was dying 
to get there." 

" It is very odd," I mused. " But, there ! 
—women are inexplicable ! " 

"And Hilda is in that matter the very 
quintessence of woman. Even I, who have 
known her for years, don't pretend to under- 
stand her." 

A few months later Sebastian began his 

Vo,. ,vH.-*2. 

great researches on his new anaesthetic. It 
was a wonderful set of researches. It pro- 
mised so well. Air Nat's (as we familiarly 
and affectionately style St. Nathaniel's) was 
in* a fever of excicement over the drug for 
a twelvemonth. 

The Professor obtained his first hint of 
the new body by a mere accident. His 
friend the Deputy Prosector of the Zoologi- 
cal Society had mixed a draught for a sick 
racoon at the Gardens, and, by some* mistake 
in a bottle, had mixed it wrongly. (I pur- 
posely refrain from mentioning the ingre- 
dients, as they are drugs which can be easily 
obtained in isolation at any chemist's, though 
when compounded they form one of the 
most dangerous and difficult to detect of 
organic poisons. I do not desire to play 
into the hands of would-be criminals.) The 
compound on which the Deputy Prosector 
had thus accidentally lighted sent the 
racoon to sleep in the most extraordinary 
manner. Indeed, the racoon slept for thirty- 
six hours on end, all attempts to awake him 
by pulling his tail or tweaking his hair being 
quite unavailing. This was a novelty in 
narcotics : so Sebastian was asked to come 
_ jtnd look at the slumbering brute. He sug- 
gested the attempt to perform an operation 
on the somnolent racoon by removing, under 
the influence of the drug, an internal growth, 
which was considered the probable cause of 
his illness. A surgeon was called in, the 
growth was found and removed, and the 
racoon, to everybody's surprise, continued 
to slumber peacefully on his straw for five 
hours afterward. At the end of that time 
he awoke and stretched himself, as if nothing 
had happened ; and though he was, of 
course, very weak from loss of blood, he 
immediately displayed a most royal hunger. 
He ate up all the maize that was offered him 
for breakfast, and proceeded to manifest 
a desire for more by most unequivocal 

Sebastian was overjoyed. He now felt 
sure he had discovered a drug which would 
supersede chloroform — a drug more lasting 
in its immediate effects, and yet far less 
harmful in its ultimate results on the balance 
of the system. A name being wanted for it, 
he christened it "lethodyne." It was the 
best pain-luller yet invented. 

For the next few weeks, at Nat's, we heard 
of nothing but lethodyne. Patients recovered, 
and patients died : but their deaths or 
recoveries were as dross to lethodyne. An 
anaesthetic that might revolutionize surgery, 
and even medicine ! A royal road through 




with the racoon 
with those poor 
domestic rabbits, 
case any painful 

disease, with no trouble to the doctor and no 
pain to the patient ! Lethodyne held the 
field. We were all of us, for the moment, 
intoxicated with lethodyne. 

Sebastian's observations on the new agent 
occupied several months* He had begun 
he went on, of course, 
scapegoats of physiology, 
Not that in this particular 
experiments were in con- 
templation : the Professor tried the drug on 
a dozen or more quite healthy young animals 
— with the strange result that they dozed off 
quietly, and never woke up again, This 
nonplussed Sebastian* He experimented 
once more on another racoon with a smaller 
dose ; the racoon fell asleep and slept like a 
top for fifteen hours, at the end of which 
time he woke up as if nothing out of the 
common had happened. Sebastian fell back 
upon rabbits again, with smaller and smaller 
doses, It was no good : the rabbits all 
died with great unanimity, until the dose was 


so diminished that it did not send them off 
to sleep at all. There was no middle course : 
apparently, to the rabbit kind, lethodyne was 
either fatal or else inoperative. So it proved 
to sheep. The new drug killed, or did 

I will not trouble you with all the details 
of Sebastian's further researches : the curious 

will find them discussed at length in Volume 
237 of the "Philosophical Transactions." 
(See also "Comptes Rendus de PAcademie 
de M^decine": tome 49, pp. 72 and sequel.) 
I will restrict myself here to that part of the 
inquiry which immediately refers to Hilda 
Wade's history. 

" If I were you," she said to the Professor 
one morning, when he was most astonished 
at his contradictory results, " I would test it 
on a haw T L If I dare venture on a suggestion, 
I believe you will find that hawks recover,' 1 

"The deuce they do!' J Sebastian cried. 
However, he had such confidence in Nurse 
Wade's judgment that he bought a couple of 
hawks and tried the treatment on them. 
Both birds took considerable doses, and, 
after a period of insensibility extending to 
several hours, woke up in the end quite 
bright and lively. 

14 1 see your principle/' the Professor broke 
out- " It depends upon diet. Carnivores and 
birds of prey can take lethodyne with 
impunity: herbivores and 
fruit-eaters cannot recover, 
and die of it. Man* there- 
fore, being partly car- 
nivorous will doubtless be 
able more or fess to stand 

Hilda Wade smiled her 
sphinx-like smile, ** Not 
quite that, I fancy/' she 
answered. "It will kill cats, 
I feel sure : at least, most 
domesticated ones. But 
it will w/kill weasels. Yet 
both are carnivores." 

44 That young woman 
knows too much ! " Sebas- 
tian muttered to me, 
looking after her as she 
glided noiselessly with her 
gentle tread down the long 
white corridor " We shall 
have to suppress her, 
Cumberledge. * * . But 
I'll wager my life she's 
right, for all that. I 
wonder, now, how the 
dickens she guessed it ! " 
11 Intuition, 11 1 answered. 
He pouted his under lip above the upper 
one, with a dubious acquiescence. " Infer- 
ence, I call it," he retorted. " All woman's 
so-called intuition is in fact just rapid and 
half-unconscious inference," 

He was so full of the subject, however, 
and so utterly carried away by his scientific 




ardour, that I regret to say, he gave a strong 
dose of lethodyne at once to each of the 
matron's petted and pampered Persian 
cats, which lounged about her room and 
were the delight of the convalescents. They 
were two peculiarly lazy sultanas of cats — 
mere jewels of the harem — Oriental beauties 
that loved to bask in the sun or curl them- 
selves up on the rug before the fire, and 
dawdle away their lives in congenial idle- 
ness. Strange to say, Hilda's prophecy 
came true. Zuleika settled herself down 
comfortably in the Professor's easy chair, 
and fell into a sound sleep from which 
there was no awaking ; while Roxana met 
fate on the tiger-skin she loved, coiled up in 
a circle, and passed from this life of dreams, 
without knowing it, into one where dreaming 
is not. Sebastian noted the facts with a 
quiet gleam of satisfaction in hi§ watchful 
eye, and explained afterwards, with curt 
glibness to the angry matron, that her 
favourites had been " canonized in the 
roll of science, as painless martyrs to the 
advancement of physiology." 

The weasels, on the other hand, with an 
equal dose, woke up after six hours as lively 
as crickets. It was clear that carnivorous 
tastes were not the whole solution, for 
Roxana was famed as a notable mouser. 

" Your principle ? " Sebastian asked our 
sybil, in his brief, quick way. 

Hilda's cheek wore a glow of pardonable 
triumph. The great teacher had deigned to 
ask her assistance. "I judged by the 
analogy of Indian hemp," she answered. 
" This is clearly a similar, but much stronger, 
narcotic. Now, whenever I have given 
Indian hemp by your direction to people of 
sluggish or even of merely bustling tempera- 
ment, I have noticed that small doses produce 
serious effects, and that the after-results are 
most undesirable. But when you have pre- 
scribed the hemp for nervous, overstrung, 
imaginative people, I have observed that they 
can stand large amounts of the tincture 
without evil results, and that the after-effects 
pass off rapidly. I, who am mercurial in 
temperament, for example, can take any 
amount of Indian hemp without being made 
ill by it, while ten drops will send some slow 
and torpid rustics mad drunk with excitement 
— drive them at once into homicidal mania." 

Sebastian nodded his head. He needed 
no more explanation. " You have hit it," he 
said. "I see it at a glance. The old 
antithesis ! All men and all animals fall, 
roughly speaking, into two great divisions of 
type: the impassioned and the unimpassioned, 

by L^OOgle 

the vivid and the phlegmatic. I catch your 
drift now. Lethodyne is poison to phleg- 
matic patients, who have not active power 
enough to wake up from it unhurt : it is 
relatively harmless to the vivid and impas- 
sioned, who can be put asleep by it, indeed, 
for a few hours more or less, but are alive 
enough to live on through the coma and 
reassert their vitality after it." 

I recognised as he spoke that this explana- 
tion was correct : the dull rabbits, the sleepy 
Persian cats, and the silly sheep had died 
outright of lethodyne : the cunning, inquisi- 
tive racoon, the quick hawk, and the active, 
intense-natured weasels, all most eager, wary, 
and alert animals, full of keenness and 
passion, had recovered quickly. 

" Dare we try it on a human subject ? " I 
asked, tentatively. 

Hilda Wade answered at once with that 
unerring rapidity of hers, " Yes, certainly ; on 
a few — the right persons. 7, for one, am not 
afraid to try it." 

"You?" I cried, feeling suddenly aware 
how much I thought of her. " Oh, not you, 
please, Nurse Wade. Some other life — less 
valuable ! " 

Sebastian stared at me coldly. " Nurse 
Wade volunteers," he said. " It is in the 
cause of science. Who dares dissuade her ? 
That tooth of yours? Ah, yes. Quite 
sufficient excuse. You wanted it out, Nurse 
Wade. Wells-Dinton shall opeiate." 

Without a moment's hesitation, Hilda Wade 
sat down in an easy chair, and took a 
measured dose of the new anaesthetic pro- 
portioned to the average difference in weight 
between racoons and humanity. My face 
displayed my anxiety I suppose, for she 
turned to me, smiling, with quiet confidence. 
" I know my own constitution," she said, with 
a reassuring glance that went straight to my 
heart. " I do not in the least fear." 

As for Sebastian, he administered the drug 
to her as unconcernedly as if she were a 
rabbit. Sebastian's scientific coolness and 
calmness have long been the admiration of 
younger practitioners. 

Wells - Dinton gave one wrench. The 
tooth came out as though the patient were 
a block of marble. There was not a cry 
or a movement, such as one notes when 
nitrous oxide is administered. Hilda Wade 
was to all appearance a mass of lifeless 
flesh. We stood round and watched. I 
was trembling with terror. Even on 
Sebastian's pale face, usually so unmoved 
save by the watchful eagerness of scientific 
curiosity, I saw signs of anxiety. 
Original from 




After four hours of profound slumber — 
breath hovering, as it seemed, between life 
and death — she began to come to again. 
In half an hour more she was wide awake ; 
she opened her eyes and asked for a glass of 
hock, with beef essence or oysters. 

That evening, by six o'clock, she was quite 
well, and able to go about her duties as 

"Sebastian is a wonderful man," I said to 
her, as I entered her ward on my rounds at 
night, " His coolness astonishes me, Do 
you know, he watched you all the time you 
were lying asleep there as if nothing were the 

"Coolness?" she inquired, in a quiet 
voice. " Or cruelty ? " 

"Cruelty?" I echoed, aghast "Sebastian 
cruel ! Oh, Nurse Wade, what an idea ! 
Why, he has spent his whole life in striving 
against all odds to alleviate pain. He is the 
apostle of philanthropy ! " 

" Of philanthropy, or of science ? To 
alleviate pain, or to learn the whole truth 
about the human 

" Come, come 
now," I cried, 
"You analyze too 
far, I will not let 
even you put me 
out of conceit with 
Sebastian," (Her 
face flushed at that 
" even you 1 ^ ; I 
almost fancied she 
began to like me.) 
" He is the enthu- 
siasm of my life : 
just consider how 
much he has done 
for humanity ! " 

She looked me 
through, search- 
in glj\ tl I will 

not destroy your illusion," she answered, 
after a pause, " It is a noble and generous 
one. But is it not largely based on an 
ascetic face, long white hair, and a moustache 
that hides the cruel corners of the mouth ? 
For the corners are cruel. Some day, I will 
show you them. Cut off the long hair, shave 
the grizzled moustache — and what then will 
remain ? 7> She drew a profile hastily- " Just 
that/' and she showed it me. Twas a face 
like Robespierre's, grown harder and older, 
and lined with observation, I recognised 
that it was in fact the essence of Sebastian. 

Next day, as it turned out, the Professor 

Digitized by\^.OOgle 

himself insisted upon testing lethodyne in 
his own person. All Nat's strove to dissuade 
him. " Your life is so precious, sir : the 
ad\ r ancenient of science ! " But the Professor 
was adamantine. 

" Science can only be advanced if men of 
science will take their lives in their hands," 
he answered, sternly. "Besides, Nurse 
Wade has tried. Am I to lag behind a 
woman in my devotion to the cause of 
physiological knowledge ? " 

** Let him try," Hilda Wade murmured to 
me, " He is quite right. It will not hurt 
him, I have told him already he has just 
the proper temperament to stand the drug. 
Such people are rare : he is one of them." 

We administered the dose, trembling, 
Sebastian took it like a man and dropped off 
instantly, for lethodyne is at least as instanta- 
neous in ots operation as nitrous oxide. 

He lav long asleep, Hilda and I watched 

'he lay long asleep 

After he had lain for some minutes sense- 
less, like a log, on the couch where we had 
placed him, Hilda stooped over him quietly 
and lifted up the ends of the grizzled 
moustache* Then she pointed one accusing 
finger at his lips* " I told you so, 13 she 
murmured, with a note of demonstration, 

"There is certainly something rather stern 
or even ruthless about the set of the face 
and the firm ending of the lips/' I admitted, 

" That is why God gave men moustaches," 
she mused, in a low voice; "to hide the 
cruel corners of their Diouths." 




" Not always cruel," I cried. 

" Sometimes cruel, sometimes cunning, 
sometimes sensuous ; but nine times out of 
ten, best masked by moustaches." 

" You have a bad opinion of our sex ! " I 

"Providence knew best," she answered. 
"// gave you moustaches. That was in 
order that we women might be spared from 
always seeing you as you are. Besides, I 
said 'Nine times out of ten/ There are ex- 
ceptions — such exceptions ! " 

On second thought, I did not feel sure 
that I could quarrel with her estimate. 

The experiment was that time once more 
successful. Sebastian woke up from the 
comatose state after eight hours, not quite as 
fresh as Hilda Wade, perhaps, but still toler- 
ably alive, less alert, however, and complain- 
ing of dull headache. He was not hungry. 
Hilda Wade shook her head at that. "It 
will be of use only in a very few cases," she 
said to me, regretfully; "and those few will 
need to be carefully picked by an acute 
observer. I see resistance to the coma is, 
even more than I thought, a matter of 
temperament. Why, so impassioned a man 
as the Professor himself cannot entirely 
recover. With more sluggish temperaments, 
we shall have deeper difficulty." 

" Would you call him impassioned ? " I 
asked. "Most people think him so cold 
and stern." 

She shook her head. " He is a snow- 
capped volcano," she answered. " The fires 
of his life burn bright below. The exterior 
alone is cold and placid." 

However, starting from that time, Sebastian 
began a course of experiments on patients, 
giving infinitesimal doses at first, and 
venturing slowly on somewhat larger 
quantities. But only in his own case and 
Hilda's could the result be called quite 
satisfactory. One dull and heavy, drink- 
sodden navvy, to whom he administered no 
more than one-tenth of a grain, was drowsy 
for a week, and listless long after ; while a 
fat washerwoman from West Ham, who took 
only two-tenths, fell so fast asleep, and snored 
so stertorously, that we feared she was going 
to doze off into eternity, after the fashion of 
the rabbits. Mothers of large families, we 
noted, stood the drug very ill : on pale 
young girls of the consumptive tendency its 
effect was not marked : but only a patient 
here and there of exceptionally imaginative 
and vivid temperament seemed able to 
endure it. Sebastian was discouraged. He 
saw the anaesthetic was not destined to 

by LiOOgle 

fulfil his first enthusiastic humanitarian 

One day, while the investigation was just 
at this stage, a case was admitted into the 
observation-cots in which Hilda Wade took a 
particular interest The patient was a young 
girl named Isabel Huntley — tall, dark, and 
slender, a markedly quick and imaginative 
type, with large black eyes which clearly 
bespoke a passionate nature. Though dis- 
tinctly hysterical, she was pretty and pleasing. 
Her rich, dark hair was as copious as it was 
beautiful. She held herself erect, and had 
a finely poised head. From the first moment 
she arrived, I could see Nurse Wade was 
strongly drawn towards her. Their souls 
sympathized. Number Fourteen — that is 
our impersonal way of describing cases — was 
constantly on Hilda's lips. " I like the girl," 
she said once. " She is a lady in fibre." 

" And a tobacco-trimmer by trade," Sebas- 
tian added, sarcastically. 

As usual, Hilda's was the truer descrip- 
tion. It went deeper. 

Number Fourteen's ailment was a rare 
and peculiar one, into which I need not 
enter here with professional precision. (I 
have described the case fully for my brother 
practitioners in my paper in the fourth volume 
of Sebastian's " Medical Miscellanies.") It 
will be enough for my present purpose to 
say in brief that the lesion consisted of an 
internal growth, which is always dangerous 
and most often fatal, but which nevertheless 
is of such a character that if it be once 
happily eradicated by supremely good surgery 
it never tends to recur, and leaves the 
patient as strong and well as ever. Sebastian 
was, of course, delighted with the splendid 
opportunity thus afforded him. "It is a 
beautiful case ! " he cried, with professional 
enthusiasm. " Beautiful ! Beautiful ! I 
never saw one so deadly or so malignant 
before. We are indeed in luck's way. Only 
a miracle can save her life. Cumberledge, 
we must proceed to perform the miracle." 

Sebastian loved such cases. They formed 
his ideal. He did not greatly admire the 
artificial prolongation of diseased and un- 
wholesome lives which could never be of 
much use to their owners or anyone else ; 
but when a chance occurred for restoring to 
perfect health a valuable existence which 
might otherwise be extinguished before its 
time, he positively revelled in his beneficent 
calling. " What nobler object can a man 
propose to himself," he used to say, "than 
to raise good men and true from the dead, as 
it were, and return them whole and sound to 




the family that depends upon them ? Why, 
I had fifty times rather cure an honest coal- 
heaver of a wound in his leg than give ten 
years more lease of life to a gouty lord, 
diseased from top to toe, who expects to find 
a month of Carlsbad or Homburg once every 
year make up for eleven months of over- 
eating, over-drinking, vulgar debauchery, and 
under-thinking." He had no sympathy with 
men who lived the lives of swine : his heart 
was with the workers. 

Of course, Hilda Wade soon suggested 
that, as an operation was absolutely necessary, 
Number Fourteen would be a splendid sub- 
ject on whom to test once more the effects of 
lethodyne. Sebastian, with his head on one 
side, surveying the patient, promptly coin- 
cided. " Nervous diathesis," he observed* 
" Very vivid fancy. Twitches her hands the 
right way. Quick pulse, rapid perceptions, 
no meaningless unrest, but deep vitality. I 
don't doubt she'll stand it" 

We explained to Number Fourteen the 
gravity of the case> and also the tentative 
character of the operation under lethodyne. 
At first, she shrank from taking it. " No, 
no," she said* "let me die quietly/' But 
Hilda, like the Angel of Mercy that she was, 
whispered in the girl's ear, " If it succeeds, 
you will get quite well, and — you can marry 

The patient's dark face flushed crimson. 

" Ah, Arthur," she cried. " Dear Arthur ! 
I can bear anything you choose to do to 
me — for Arthur ! " 

" How soon you find these things out ! " 
I cried to Hilda a few minutes later, "A 
mere man would never have thought of 
that. And who is Arthur?" 

"A sailor — on a ship that 
trades with the South Seas. I 
hope he is worthy of her. 
Fretting over Arthur's absence 
has aggravated the case. He 
is homeward-bound now. She 
is worrying herself to death, for 
fear she should not live to 
say good-bye to Mm." 

" She wiil live to marry him," 
I answered, with confidence 
like her own, ** if you say she 
can stand it." 

"The lethodyne — oh, yes, 
that's all right. But the opera 
tion itself is so extremely 
dangerous. Though Dr. Sebas- ' 
tian says he has called in the 
best surgeon in Ix>ndon for 
all such cases — they are rare, 

Digitized by Google 

he tells me — and Nielsen has performed on 
six, three of them successfully." 

We gave the girl the drug. She took it, 
trembling, and went off at once, holding 
Hilda's hand, with a pale smile on her face, 
w T hich persisted there somewhat weirdly 
all through the operation. The work of re- 
moving the growth was long and ghastly, even 
for us who were well seasoned to such sights, 
but at the end Nielsen expressed himself as 
perfectly satisfied. " A very neat piece of 
work ! " Sebastian exclaimed, looking on. " I 
congratulate you, Nieisen. I never saw any- 
thing done cleaner or belter/' 

" A successful operation^ certainly ! " the 
great surgeon admitted, with just pride in 
the Master's commendation. 

" And the patient ? " Hilda asked, wavering. 

" Oh, the patient ? The patient will die," 
Nielsen replied, in an unconcerned voice, 
wiping his spotless instruments, 

" That is not my idea of the medical art," 
I cried, shocked at his callousness. "An 
operation is only successful if -" 

He regarded me with lofty scorn. "A 
certain percentage of losses," he interrupted, 
calmly, "is inevitable, of course, in alt 
surgical operations. We are obliged to 
average it, How could I preserve my pre- 
cision and accuracy of hand if I were always 
bothered by sentimental considerations of 
the patient's safety ? " 

Hilda Wade glanced up at me with a sympa- 
thetic glance. " We will pull her through yet," 
she murmured, in her soft voice, "if care 
and skill can do it My care and your skill. 
This is now our patient. Dr. Cumber ledge." 

It needed care and skill. We watched her 
for hours, and she showed no sign o? gleam 


'she .hhuwep no sign 





of recovery. Her sleep was deeper than 
either Sebastian's or Hilda's had been. She 
had taken a big dose, so as to secure im- 
mobility : the question now was, would she 
recover at all from it ? Hour after hour we 
waited, and watched : and not a sign of move- 
ment ! Only the same deep, slow, hampered 
breathing, the same feeble, jerky pulse, the 
same deathly pallor on the dark cheeks, the 
same corpse-like rigidity of limb and muscle. 

At last, our patient stirred faintly as in a 
dream ; her breath faltered. We bent over 
her. Was it death, or was she beginning to 
recover ? 

Very slowly, a faint trace of colour came 
back to her cheeks. Her heavy eyes half 
opened. They stared first with a white 
stare. Her arms dropped by her side. Her 
mouth relaxed its ghastly smile. . . . We 
held our breath. . . . She was conning to 
again ! 

But her coming to was slow — very, very 
slow. Her pulse was still weak. Her heart 
pumped feebly. We feared she might sink 
from inanition at any moment. Hilda Wade 
knelt on the floor by the girl's side and held 
a spoonful of beef essence coaxingly to her 
lips. Number Fourteen gasped, drew a long, 
slow breath, then gulped and swallowed it. 
After that, she lay back with her mouth 
open, looking like a corpse. Hilda pressed 
another spoonful of the soft jelly upon her : 
but the girl waved it away with one trembling 
hand. " Let me die," she cried. " Let me 
die ! I feel dead already." 

Hilda held her face close. " Isabel," she 
whispered — and I recognised in her tone the 
vast moral difference between " Isabel " and 
"Number Fourteen." " Is-a-bel, you must take 
it. For Arthur's sake, I say, you must take it." 

The girl's hand quivered as it lay on the 
white coverlet. " For Arthur's sake ! " she 
murmured, lifting her eyelids dreamily. 
" For Arthur's sake ! Yes, nurse, dear ! " 

" Call pe Hilda, please ! Hilda ! " 

The glri's face lighted up again. " Yes, 
Hilda, dear," she answered, in an unearthly 
voice, like one raised from the dead. "I 
will call you what you will. Angel of Light, 
you have been so good to me." 

She opened her lips with an effort, and 
slowly swallowed another spoonful. Then 
she fell back, exhausted. But her pulse 
improved within twenty minutes. 

I mentioned the matter, with enthusiasm, 
to Sebastian later. "It is very nice in its 
way," he answered ; " but .... it is not 

I thought to myself that that was just what 

by t^ 



it was : but I did not say so. Sebastian was 
a man who thought meanly of women : "A 
doctor, like a priest," he used to declare, 
" should keep himself unmarried. His bride 
is medicine." And he disliked to see what 
he called philandering going on in his 
hospital. It may have been on that account 
that I avoided speaking much of Hilda Wade 
thenceforth before him. 

He looked in casually next day to see the 
patient. " She will die," he said, with perfect 
assurance, as we passed down the ward 
together. " Operation has taken too much 
out of her." 

" Still, she has great recuperative powers," 
Hilda answered. "They all have in her 
family, Professor. You may, perhaps, re- 
member Joseph Huntley, who occupied 
Number Sixty-seven in the Accident Ward 
some nine months since — compound fracture 
of the arm — a dark, nervous engineer's 
assistant — very hard to restrain — well, he 
was her brother : he caught typhoid in the 
hospital, and you commented at the time 
on his strange vitality. Then there was her 
cousin, again, Ellen Stubbs— we had her for 
stubborn chronic laryngitis — a very bad case 
— anyone else would have died — yielded 
at once to your treatment, and made, I 
recollect, a splendid convalescence." 

" What a memory you have ! " Sebastian 
cried, admiring against his will. " It is simply 
marvellous ! I never saw anyone like you in 
my life . . . except once. He was a man, a 
doctor, a colleague of mine — dead long ago. 

. . . Why " he mused, and gazed hard at 

her. Hilda shrank before his gaze. "This 
is curious," he went on slowly, at last. "Very 
curious. You — why, you resemble him." 

" Do I ? " Hilda replied, with forced calm, 
raising her eyes to his. Their glances met. 
That moment, I saw each had recognised 
something ; and from that day forth I was in- 
stinctively aware that a duel was being waged 
between Sebastian and Hilda. A duel 
between the two ablest and most singular 
personalities I had ever met. A duel of life 
and death—